


The Night He Left

by VanillaGhost



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Illnesses, Kid Fic, M/M, Past Infidelity, Post-War, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-27 18:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12086790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaGhost/pseuds/VanillaGhost
Summary: After waking up in a forest to discover he’s been missing for twelve days, Harry must recover his memory if he’s to believe an old enemy and the little girl who show up the next day claiming to be his husband and daughter of nine years.





	1. Revenants

**Author's Note:**

> At long last, my Big Bang contribution!
> 
> And if you haven't already, I'd seriously suggest checking out this cool [moodboard](https://darklorddiscourse.tumblr.com/post/165244247810) made by the wonderful darklorddiscourse. ♥

_Now and then when I see her face…_

It was in that space right before you woke. That landscape of dream and reality where a flash of memory formed in the back of his mind.

_She takes me away to that special place…_

There were no images, only the unmistakable sound of a melody. A song or lullaby, haunting in its familiarity but gone in the next second. Replaced with a much more harrowing sound.

The searing noise sliced through the dark fog of his brain. Two syllables ending in one shrill, piercing note that abruptly cut off, leaving only echoes in its wake. Harry thought it might be his mother’s scream again. But the pitch was off, higher, and gone the moment he opened his eyes. Like any other ghost of a dream left from the war.

It was a chill, crisp spring morning when he woke. With aching limbs and a head which felt like it had been hit by a Bludger, Harry came to with a slow realization.

He was not in his bed at Grimmauld Place, nor the Auror headquarters, or St. Mungo’s. But, in fact, laying prone on what could only be the soft, damp earth of a thick wood. What made matters worse, of course, was the addition of a splitting pain hammering the inside of his skull. Though the familiar weight of his glasses still rested on his face, it was difficult to focus his sight. But after a minute or so, the blurry image of the wood began to take on a clearer picture.

So he _was_ lying on a forest floor.

The only question that remained now was, how did he get there?

A vague memory surfaced from the murky depths of Harry's mind. It was of himself bolting among the trees under the thick cover of night. Searching, hunting… A suspect That’s right, he was on an Auror case. A rogue Death Eater named Phillius Dasher was on the loose. But where had he gone now? Casting a searching gaze through the thicket of trees, Harry found it devoid of any human life save his own. With a frustrated huff, he finally let his gaze drop to check himself for any injury or oddity. And to his astonishment, the latter seemed to be the case this time.

Instead of Auror robes; a tweed blazer, white Oxford shirt, suspenders, and a pair of worn but polished brown leather shoes met Harry's eyes. Perplexed, he tried to cast his mind back to the case. Had he been undercover? After a moment of frantic thought, the ache of his mind and body prompted him to scramble to his feet. The world tilted dangerously though, and he swayed before leaning on the nearest tree. With cautious steps, Harry staggered through the forest to arrive at a small clearing.

Once his thoughts felt suitably less foggy, he Apparated straight back to his office in the Auror department. Surely there he’d find out what had happened on the case. Or, at the very least, what had happened to him.

 

* * *

 

Harry knew something was off the moment he appeared outside the building with a loud _pop_. It was a general sense of wrongness one tended to develop through years of experience avoiding certain death. Or the feeling became clear from the reaction he stirred upon entering the building.

As soon as she spotted him, a witch in the waiting area turned white as a sheet before fainting into a heap on the seats. Alarmed, Harry rushed over when he heard an audible gasp behind him. From her desk, the receptionist stared in wide-eyed astonishment before letting out an almighty shriek. Harry meant to say something when she launched herself from her seat and into one of the backrooms. More than slightly disconcerted now, Harry set out to find someone who could explain the situation.

He marched toward his office with singular purpose, the promise of answers spurring him on. Certainly there he could find out if Phillius Dasher was caught and how long, exactly, he had been unconscious in the wood. But his step slowed and faltered when he caught sight of a familiar head of fiery hair stepping out of the lifts.

“Ron!” Harry called, relieved to see his partner and lifelong friend.

At the sound of Harry's voice, the other man froze and his whole body seemed to stiffen. When he turned, his expression was almost identical to the woman in the waiting area.

Thankfully, though, Ron did not fall into a swoon. “H-H-Harry…?” he stammered out in a breathless whisper.

The man in question frowned at his friend's behaviour. “Ron, what the hell is going on? What’s wrong with everyone? Agnes took one look at me and screamed and then – ”

“Bloody hell…!” Ron squeaked. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Harry’s frown deepened and he snapped, “Of course it’s me! I can’t have been knocked out for that long!”

The rest of his protest was cut off by his friend locking him in a bone-crushing embrace. Harry only managed to wheeze out the words, “Ron! What – ?” before his friend finally pulled back. His shoulders were still clutched in Ron’s hands though, and he stared back at a pale freckled face.

“Oh Merlin, Harry, where’ve you been?” Ron said. “We’d thought you died!”

Harry balked and repeated his earlier question: “What – !? Why?”

“Mate! You’ve been gone for twelve bloody days!” Ron cried. “No word or warning – We searched for you night and day, the lot of us. The whole Auror department was out trying to find you. Hermione almost tore down the Ministry trying to…” he trailed off at the look on his friend's face. “Harry?”

Harry stood frozen, his stomach having dropped at what he was hearing.

It was Ron’s turn to frown now. “What is it? Can’t you remember anything?”

Harry stared, mouth working as much as his brain but the only words that left him were: “I don't... I don't know.”

“So let me get this straight. You're saying you haven't the foggiest where you've been for the past twelve days?”

“Twelve…?”

In addition to the pounding headache, Harry’s head now felt light as a feather. With a tiny shake to get himself to stay conscious, Harry could only mirror his friend’s baffled look. His voice was a feeble whisper when he spoke.

“But that's not possible.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, Mr Potter,” Healer Abbott said, and pocketed her wand within the folds of his Mungo’s coat. “It appears you’ve been hit with quite a grizzly memory charm, possibly an Obliviate.”

Ron had carted Harry off to St. Mungo’s before going off to inform the Auror department of his return. And most likely his wife and the rest of the Weasley clan too.

Harry mulled over Hannah’s words for a long moment, not daring to think what they meant for his situation.

“So there’s a way to undo it, right?” Harry asked.

An apologetic look accompanied her reply. “If it's an Obliviate, I'm afraid there isn't much we can do about it. If not, then whatever spell was used is still too strong at the moment to tell what it is precisely. And too many tests will likely cause more damage or memory loss.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mr Potter.”

Harry huffed. "Hannah, please call me Harry."

“I’m afraid that would be unprofessional of me,” Hannah replied with a good-natured smile. 

Harry shook his head, his smirk fading with the returning knowledge of what this all meant.

Through all his years, this was possibly one of the less horrible things that have happened to him. Though, on the bright side, it could have been worse and he should probably thank his unfailingly good luck that it wasn’t.

Abbott had turned her attention to writing something down on a piece of parchment. “Fortunately though, it doesn’t look like any physical damage has been done. A few minor scrapes and bruises, but that’s all.” She turned a conciliatory smile on Harry. “I’d like to suggest you come back in a month or so, and we can check on how the memory charm is doing. Sound good?”

“Yeah, brilliant,” Harry said. “Thanks.”

The squeak of a chair signaled Abbott getting up to leave. “I’ll let you rest now, but do make sure to let one of the Mediwitches know if you need anything.”

Harry sighed, shoulders sagging. He felt exhausted for some reason and his head still throbbed even with the potion they gave him.

Abbott got to the door and as it opened, an explosion of noise and commotion crashed into the room. It seemed like half the world’s news journalists were out there, clamoring for a glimpse of Harry from the hall. A steely look came over Abbott's expression. But before she could utter a stern word, two familiar faces elbowed their way through the crowd and into the room.

“Harry!”

The sight of his two friends was a welcome one and a huge smile spread across Harry’s mouth.

Hermione shot forward to envelop him in a bone-crushing embrace while the face-full of bushy hair obscured the sight of Ron hovering over her shoulder. The sound of the door finally closing let silence reign in the room once more.

“Oh Harry, we’d thought something terrible had happened!” Hermione cried, though it came out muffled by her face buried in his shoulder. Harry tried to answer only to have his mouth filled with hair. She pulled away but didn’t allow him to reply before she thundered, “Where have you BEEN!? Honestly, you could have said something if – if – ”

Harry winced for his still-throbbing head and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “’Mione, I’m fine. Really. And would it be better if I told I have no clue where I’ve been?”

Her nostrils flared and she lightly slapped his arm. “No it would not be better!”

Ron chose that moment to come forward and pull her back some. “Ease up, eh? The man's clearly been through something even if he can't remember a smidge of it.”

Hermione sniffed but her eyes were hard. “Then what did the Healer say about it? Why can’t you remember anything?”

“She said it’s a memory charm, likely a strong Obliviate.”

A despondent look shadowed Hermione's expression and Harry couldn’t blame her. It was taking a while for to get her parents to remember her after the spell she cast on them before the war.

“Well, can’t we perform Legilimency on you? Maybe that will help,” she said.

Harry recoiled at the mere mention of it. Past experiences of being in the Potions classroom again making his skin crawl. Of the memory of Snape slithering around in his head.

“Yeah, no thanks,” Harry said with a shudder. Before Hermione could protest, he added: “Besides, she said the spell’s too temperamental and deep. She wants to see me again in a month or so to see if it weakens by then…”

Hermione gave a thoughtful hum and a moment of silence fell in the small room. The din of reporters outside a dull buzz through the thick silencing charm on the door.

“Blimey, Ron, did you have to tell everyone I’m back?” Harry said, indicating with his chin to the door and the chaos beyond it.

“Oi, don’t look at me. Some bugger in the department must’ve grassed on you.”

Harry sighed as his fingers absently rubbed his temple. He was only mildly perturbed to find them come away covered in dirt and holding twigs and leaves.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Ron asked.

Harry cast his mind back as far as he could to the night of the operation. He had been monitoring Dasher’s movements for a while. Once he received hard evidence of his criminal activities, the man had tried to make a run for it. Though, Harry couldn’t recall what happened after the chase through the wood.

“I was on a case in Little Hangleton’s forest. I remember going after the suspect and then…” Harry paused and frowned to himself. “And then I can’t remember any more.”

Hermione’s mouth twisted into an unhappy line and Ron said, “But we all searched the forest and we never found you!”

Another contemplative silence descended as Harry couldn’t explain it either. Where had he been?

“Not to bring focus to the wrong thing here, but what in Merlin’s name are you wearing?” Ron said, effectively bringing them back into the present.

Harry looked down at his clothes again and replied, “I have no bloody idea.”

Ron snorted. “You look like my grandad Wilbur.”

Harry shot him a flat look. “Look, all I remember is chasing the suspect through the wood and then I just… woke up like this.”

Hermione stared at him, clearly perturbed, while Ron clapped him on the back. “No worries, mate, we’ll figure it out.”

Harry gave him a feeble smile in return. “Can I change now? I feel like I’ve been buried in a forest for a week.”

Ron laughed and Hermione said, “I’ll pop over to your flat and get something for you, okay?”

“Actually, I’d like to go home now if it’s all the same to you two.”

 

* * *

 

They decided it best to avoid the crowd outside by Apparating straight to number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

As soon as the trio arrived in its familiar, gloomy interior, Harry took great pleasure in reacquainting himself with the feel of a nice, hot shower. He couldn’t wait to strip out of the strange clothing and into something more familiar.

When Harry returned to the living room, Hermione had just put on a pot of tea. Meanwhile, Ron rummaged through groceries he’d gone out to get while Harry was otherwise occupied in the bathroom.

If Harry had any doubt that this was all real, the fact that the house lay under a thicker layer of dust than usual – and that the kitchen was completely bare – made it clear.

He really had been gone for twelve days.

An increasing weariness crept into his bones and he wished his friends would stop making such a fuss. He needed time to think all this through.

After a comforting cup of tea in the living room, Ron and Hermione seemed to sense his fatigue and moved to leave.

“Right, well,” Ron said, and shuffled awkwardly on is feet. “Me and ‘Mione will leave you to it. Rose and Hugo will be chomping at the bit for some dinner soon and mum'll be pulling her hair out.”

Harry smiled at the mention of the Weasley-Granger kids. But it was accompanied by a longing pang in his chest. One that only seemed to be getting worse with each day, week, month and year that passed. It hurt to think that he would never have children of his own; a family of his own.

Harry saw them off and as the emerald flames died down in the fireplace, a cold and empty feeling descended in the house.

His chest continued its familiar ache that night, but somehow went beyond the usual loneliness this time. He thought about his friends, lying in bed with their kids sleeping soundly in a room close to them. He thought of Ginny, now in a loving relationship of four years, and having just adopted her first newborn child. A beautiful, baby boy.

Harry's shoulder shook as his stomach twisted into knots. He had always thought something was broken with him. Maybe there always had been. Or the war took something vital away...

Harry finally slipped into bed, his mind and body still aching strangely. Though a quick warming charm helped soothe some of the pain. He lay in a bed that felt too large for him and examined his hand where a long silver scar in the shape of a crescent moon ran along his palm.

The strangest of all, however, was the golden ring that glinted on his finger. He hadn’t even realized it was there until that afternoon when he took his shower. He decided not to think too much of it, seeing as there was far too much else occupying his mind. But now Harry took it off and saw that there was an inscription written on the inside of it. In an elegant script, it read:

_‘Never doubt, my love.’_

A sense of apprehension overcame him. Whose ring was this? Had he stolen it? Although it fit his finger perfectly, Harry’s hands were not as large as most men. There was the possibility it could belong to a woman. Perhaps he’d received it for safe keeping?

In any case, he placed it on his side table where his glasses soon joined it. For a few moments he just lay there and found himself gazing across at the other side of the bed. It was no surprise to find it empty. He hadn’t dated in a long time. And yet...

Something wasn’t right.

Harry’s hand brushed the cool sheets and he sighed into the silence. He’d try and figure it out tomorrow. For now, he took as many doses of sleeping potion he could and tried to sleep. He’d always kept a stash of the stuff in its own cupboard in the kitchen. For those nights of nightmares and memories that always haunted him even now, years after it ended.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, Harry fell into what he prayed would be a deep and blissful nothingness.

Instead it was a sea of images – Faceless people, a dark forest, and a bright green light.

 

* * *

 

The next morning was no less strange than the day before. Harry woke early without knowing why beyond the feeling that he should be doing something, going somewhere. But he couldn’t remember or think of what or where it should be. Work? Possibly. But he had been expressly forbidden by the department and his friends that he was not to go in today. Or for the next few weeks either. Which, to Harry, felt like a crueler punishment than anything else.

Harry opened his sock drawer only to find his trousers instead. Irritated, he scoured his dresser until he got the right drawer with a grumble. This memory thing must have caused more damage than they initially thought.

After a quick shave and brush of his teeth, he went down for breakfast. On a normal day, it was not a particularly remarkable affair. But the moment he sat down to his meal and the first forkful touched his lips, it was like he’d never tasted bacon and egg before. Harry gobbled it all down with a voracious appetite, surprised and shocked at his own hunger.

Ron and Hermione dutifully showed up later that morning. As soon as they came through the Floo, Harry was ordered to stay away from anything work related. Accompanying it was an insistent command to give it a rest.

“Because who knows what you might’ve gone through, Harry. You’ll need all the rest you can get until we find out what happened to you in that forest,” Hermione put matter-of-factly.

Harry would have argued if the idea of a few more hours of sleep didn’t sound so appealing. He had not slept well that night, despite all the potions. Among the usual nightmare from the war, a phantom feeling kept calling out to him, haunting him. Even now when he was awake, it lurked in the back of his mind like a persistent itch. And Harry’s thumb kept absently rubbing the ring-less base of the fourth finger on his left hand.

Hermione went off to work with a determined glint in her eye. It was one Harry knew meant she’d be hitting every restricted Ministry record she could find to solve his mystery.

Ron, meanwhile, said he’d skip off the afternoon to go with Harry into Diagon Alley. Harry had to stomp down on the petty feeling that his friend was acting like his babysitter now. Even though he had to admit he might go stir crazy sitting at home all day with nothing to do but worry and wonder about what happened to him. Besides, the unsettling feeling from yesterday still loomed like a darkening cloud. The house felt too big. Too empty and silent despite Kreacher’s occasional fussing about with his old master’s possessions. And his own company was harder to bear than usual.

So by midday, Harry had Apparated to the familiar hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. Ron seemed just as pleased to be out and about and he stretched as he looked about curiously. “So where d’you wanna go? I’m starved, mind, wouldn’t say no to a pasty or two. You up for it?”

Harry gave an enthusiastic nod. “Definitely. Rosa Lee Teabag and a pint after?”

Ron grinned by way of reply and they were on their way.

But as they went, the mood soured by the looks Harry began to receive from people they passed. A chorus of excited whispers and curious chatter followed them through the cobbled streets that eventually forced them to duck into The Leaky earlier than planned.

Ron led them to their usual spot in the back where they ordered a few pints of Butterbeer. It reminded Harry of the days after the war ended. Just the two of them coming here to either forget or remember together. To shirk off the increasing duties and expectations the world had for them.

That was until Harry found himself coming alone more and more often. After Hermione and Ron got hitched, he could hardly blame them. He was happy for them and still is. But there’s no doubt it only made his own companionless situation more obvious.

A pile of newspapers left lying on the seats next to him caught Harry’s attention. Picking one up, he found that, to his utter lack of surprise, he was the main attraction. Skimming through the pile, most had pictures of him in Auror uniform splashed across the front page. Though there were some of him from before the war too. One had him waving to a crowd with a forced smile. Others were candid shots of him leaving St. Mungo’s the day before in his dirty, outdated clothing. All had various incredulous headlines and speculations about his reappearance. 

Harry’s gaze scanned the article and discovered they'd captured Phillius Dasher in the end. But when questioned about Harry’s disappearance, the man had no clue where he’d gone. Said he’d ran as soon as he saw Harry, but when he turned round to look, ‘Auror Potter had vanished into thin air!’. The next few paragraphs contained short statements from people Harry knew, and some he only knew a little. The words that stuck out most were ‘Devastated family and friends.’

Harry swallowed and folded the paper before placing it back on the seat beside him. When he looked up, Ron was giving him a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t know…” Harry began in a small voice, then stopped. Unable to explain how guilty he felt and how sorry. That he wished he hadn’t gone, and wished he’d known where he’d gone in the first place.

“Oi.”

Harry looked up to see Ron giving him a reassuring expression.

“S’not your fault, mate,” he said and took another sip of his Butterbeer before licking the foam from his upper lip.

Harry’s mouth twitched and bobbed his head before he took up his own drink. Ron nudged his shoulder. “Don’t worry about that rubbish either. They’ll get bored eventually.”

Uttering a non-committal hum, Harry put the papers aside.

After they finished their pints, it was off to Rosa Lee Teabag to get some pastries “For the kids, mind. Hermione’ll have a fit if she knew about this.”

At least some things hadn’t changed while he’d been gone. It looked like Hermione was still as draconian as ever on Ron upholding his healthy diet regime. Harry recalled a particularly uproarious argument between the two about the statistics of wizards over thirty and high cholesterol. It ended in Harry having to slip out of the house before he lost any valuable body parts to a badly aimed spell.

The smell of baked goods greeted the two men as they entered the tea shop. With practiced ease, the two ignored the heads and eyes which followed them. But Harry never let that bother him after the war, and he wasn’t about to start letting it bother him now.

There were quite a handful of people in today, it being the weekend and all. Mostly mothers and fathers gathered for a social visit and brought their kids along.

For some reason, Harry felt that heaviness from before weigh down on him even more. Then one of the children called out to her father and Harry involuntarily turned. It was a gut instinct. An invisible pull that had his eyes searching for the source of the sound. When he did, Harry frowned in confusion. How could he possibly think he was being called? It was such a bizarre moment that Harry hardly noticed his friend looking at him.

Ron wore an odd expression on his face, a mix of concern and confusion.

Harry shifted on his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. “Er – Just need a bit of air or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ron said, still looking at him as if he were hearing snake voices again.

Harry plastered on his best ‘I’m alright’ look before scarpering. After calling over his shoulder for a Cornish pastie, the door gave a gentle tinkling sound as he left the shop.

He loitered out on the street for a while, basking in the gentle sunshine. Harry took in a deep breath of fresh spring air and delicious smells wafting from the kitchen ovens. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes when he heard his name called and they snapped open again.

There it was again; that gut instinct. But this time it was reacting to a familiar male voice. Scanning the street for it, another shout followed, but from a much younger voice –

“DADDY!”

Harry spun round just in time for a little girl to come barreling straight toward him. Eyes wide, Harry only had enough time to stagger back before she launched herself into his arms.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry held her awkwardly as his brain attempted to process the situation. Something was not right, and for several fairly obvious reasons.

The first being that Harry did not, to his knowledge, even have a daughter.

What could have been a minute or an hour later, a man emerged from the alley. Harry heard him panting slightly from likely having to chase after the girl. But the moment Harry’s eyes caught sight of him, he felt his face drain of colour.

There, standing only a few steps away and not a day over thirty, was the younger version of his arch-nemesis.

With his arms occupied, Harry could not reach his wand in time. Instead he could only watch as Tom Marvolo Riddle advanced on him like some ghoulish monster. Some kind of apparition or being raised from the dead.

Harry wrapped his arms in a more protective way around the child, hunching into himself as he braced for impact.

But the curse did not come.

Instead, he was enveloped in... an embrace?

The feel of his enemy holding him was equal parts terrifying and overwhelming. Harry caught the faint whiff of something hauntingly familiar in the frozen state he was in. The skin pressed against his cheek was cold and pale with the hint of stubble on a sharp jaw. Murky blue eyes were gaunt, the skin below them bruised like the other man hadn’t had enough sleep, or else was not eating well.

Then he breathed Harry’s name. Not that high-pitched hiss that plagued his nightmares. It was deep and low, the word spoken like a prayer or his salvation. It was quickly followed by the words, “I found you, it's been so long but I found you, I found you, I...”

Even more shocking was when chapped lips brushed against Harry’s forehead before he finally jerked himself out of the other man’s hold.

“We found him, papa, we found daddy!” the girl cried before she scrambled out of Harry's arms and set herself on the ground again.

Now that his hands were free, Harry fumbled out his wand and shot off an Expelliarmus.

Riddle hardly reacted when the twin wand flew from a fold in his robes and straight into Harry’s waiting palm. Meanwhile he kept his own wand aimed straight at Riddle’s chest.

A small crease furrowed Riddle’s brow. “What are you doing, Harry?”

The girl cast Harry a wary look with her large, oceanic eyes. "Daddy?" she asked in an uncertain tone.

Merlin, Harry wished he could have a second to think. Even a day of weird shite not happening would have been brilliant.

Years of dueling and Auror training kept his wand firm though, and he spoke in what he hoped was a steady voice.

“How? How are you here?”

His question only received a deepening frown.

“How are you _alive_!” Harry pushed.

The blue eyes of his enemy – not red, not yet – blinked at the sudden outburst. This normally might have given Harry pause, but he was far too on edge at the moment to think straight. And what was worse was that they were starting to attract a crowd.

Riddle seemed to catch on to this fact too. He took a step closer despite the wand digging into his chest and slowly, tentatively, placed his hands on Harry’s arms.

Harry had no idea why he’d not fired off a curse yet. But the girl… Who was she to Tom? Was this truly the same Tom Marvolo Riddle from all those years ago, standing in front of him now?

He looked different. More human. Older than the horcrux in the diary, but not the misshapen and disfigured man he’d seen in Dumbledore’s memories either. Nothing added up.

Was he finally going mad?

“Harry,” Riddle said gently. As if Harry were the one acting strange. Then he repeated his name again, but it sounded more desperate. “Harry.”

The hands on his arms tightened as Riddle stepped even closer. Blue eyes searched deep into Harry’s own until something seemed to click for him and his expression shuttered. His Adam’s Apple bobbed and he finally pulled back a few steps, hands slipping away from Harry’s arms to dangle uselessly at his sides. His gaze never left Harry though, who shifted restlessly on his feet. Shaken and torn between what he should do.

“Papa, what’s wrong?” the little girl said next to Riddle. “What’s wrong with daddy? Why doesn’t he remember us?” Her voice wobbled as tears gathered in her large, sea-foam coloured eyes. “Papa, why doesn’t daddy remember!”

The tears distressed Harry but he did not know what to do. They clearly thought he was someone else. Or maybe this was some kind of plot Riddle concocted.

But other man still looked at Harry like he were a ghost. That, or like he’d greatly betrayed him somehow.

“Evelyn,” Riddle said, and motioned for the girl with one hand. The girl – Evelyn – joined him by his side and Harry’s gaze could not decide what to focus on first. This was all too much.

“Harry, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Ron’s voice spoke up from behind him and Harry’s shoulders nearly dropped in relief.

With breath coming short and a gaze still locked on Tom, Harry licked his lips and said as steadily as he could: “Ron, contact the Ministry. Now.”

“What – Why? What’s happened?”

Ron was already retrieving his wand from his robes though.

Harry glanced at the people gathering round the scene, unsure whether speaking his old enemy’s name would be wise. It would only stir up more rumours and ignite old paranoia and fear again. They’d already fought so hard for peace.

So Harry spoke the name only a handful knew.

“Tell them…” Harry began in a lowered voice. “Tell them Tom Riddle has returned.”

Ron’s face went ashen in a second and his lips parted in a small gape. “Wh – Are you serious – ?”

_“Ron.”_

A silvery blue Labrador sprung from the tip of his wand and loped through the air, carrying with it their grave message.


	2. Persona Non Grata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weasley offshoots calling Harry 'uncle' = definite headcanon.

A frown marred Harry’s forehead.

On the other side of a magical barrier, Tom Riddle sat at a table with a little girl by his side. Seated opposite them was a Ministry official asking questions.

“This isn’t possible.”

Hermione repeated what had been going through Harry’s mind for hours now. She shook her head, perplexed. “Voldemort died. We all saw it, his body was right there!”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip but never took his eyes off Riddle.

“Yeah, and who’s the girl?” Ron asked.

Hermione blew out a breath and shuffled through several rolls of parchment. Her eyes scanned the little information they had so far. “She said her name’s Evelyn,” she relayed. “Evelyn Riddle, though for some reason she seems to think that Harry’s her father as well.”

Ron’s eyes widened as he stared at his wife. “Did Voldemort have a kid?” he said in a voice that was strangely quiet.

Hermione bit her lip, forehead creased in frustrated bewilderment. “I - I don’t know...! If he did, no one ever knew about it…” She shuffled through more papers though Harry knew it wouldn’t do much good. If they hadn’t known about the girl before, then she was a well-kept secret. Unknown to anyone except Voldemort, and would have followed him to his grave.

Could he really have had a child? Harry felt sick at the mere thought. There was something unsettling about the idea of Lord Voldemort having offspring. Which made Harry all the more sure that the other man _had_ to be lying.

“Maybe he told her that,” Harry procured after a long moment of thought. “Maybe he kidnapped her and lied to her just to get to me. He knows he can use someone like her, for leverage, you know? It’s the exact thing he would do.”

A palpable heat simmered beneath his words that did not go unnoticed by his friends. He couldn’t help it; the idea of such a wicked scheme made Harry’s chest boil with fury.

“Maybe,” Hermione said, casting Harry a wary look. “It’s... a possibility. But it still doesn’t answer the question of where they came from in the first place.”

“Well, it’s got to be time-travel,” Ron blurted, and they both turned to him. He shrugged one of his shoulders. “Why not? Hermione, you had a time turner at school. Who’s to say the slimy bastard didn’t nick one for himself to come here?” He jerked his chin to indicate Riddle on the other side of the barrier. The Ministry official appeared frustrated with the answers she was receiving. Meanwhile Riddle looked calm and collected though a ring of exhaustion lined his dark eyes.

Harry had to concede his best friend had a point. Could this Tom Riddle really be from the past? And what was he doing here? Did he know he’d lose the war so came here to have another go at victory?

Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair and paced the small room. “It makes no sense.”

Ron gave a snort and folded his arms across his chest. “Right, that’s a definite. Though when has anything ever made sense in our lives?”

Another good point Harry had to concede.

“Well, I’m going to see if there’s anything about alternative time-travel magic in the Ministry library,” Hermione announced with a determined gleam in her eye. “He doesn’t have a time-turner on him, so it’s got to be something else.”

In the next moment she was gone in a storm of papers, leaving Harry and Ron to stand in silence. They watched as the young Dark Lord smoothly answered all the questions from across the table of an Auror now. The girl, Evelyn, had become surprisingly calm and quiet now. Her posture rigid but her large, sea green eyes observant as they took in her surroundings.

Harry took the opportunity to take her in. He took in the jet black hair which fell just beneath her chin, side-parted and neatly combed. Of the ribbon tied round her head like a headband. She wore a lavender-coloured dress under a moth-eaten cardigan and, upon closer inspection, faint smudges of dirt could be found here and there. A pair of bobby socks pooled around too-thin ankles inside a pair of muddy black shoes.

It was the same outdated clothing Harry had woken up in in the forest.

A closer examination of her faces revealed a few similarities to Riddle. But then Harry did not trust his own judgment enough on the matter. All the same, it made him shudder. What if this was really Voldemort’s child?

Harry flicked his wand at the one-way mirror barrier and their voices filled the small room he and Ron were in.

“What’s your name?” Auror Bennett said.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“Where are you from?”

“London.”

“When?”

Riddle only answered after a brief pause. “Nineteen fifty-nine.”

“Do you know what year it is now?”

“Not precisely,” Riddle paused again before he corrected himself. “Though I imagine it is the future.”

“How did you get to this time?”

There was no answer.

“Please answer the question, Mr Riddle.”

A sharp jaw worked a bit as cloudy blue eyes flashed dangerously. “I don’t know.”

Lies, Harry thought. Don’t believe him.

“And why have you come to this time, do you think?”

Riddle fell silent again but this time the girl turned to Auror Bennett and answered, “To find daddy.”

Riddle’s gaze snapped to her, blue eyes narrowing, and a cowed look reflected across her expressive face.

“And who would that be, hm?” Bennett asked in a softer tone.

At the sound of her name spoken in a low warning tone, she became hesitant.

“Mr Riddle, please allow her to answer – ” Bennett began when Riddle cut him off: “I came here to find my husband.”

After saying it, Riddle’s eyes closed briefly and he let out a small sigh. When they flickered open again, it was to look up and straight at Harry through the barrier.

Harry’s heart thudded in his chest though he knew the other man couldn’t see him. Yet the knowledge of Riddle’s skill in Legillimency was an inescapable reality. He had no wand either, but Harry put up Occlumency shields, just in case.

“And what would be the name of your husband, Mr Riddle?” Bennett continued.

“Harry James Potter.”

There was no hesitation when it left Riddle’s mouth. Harry’s name was spoken with an air of complete confidence and eerie familiarity.

A pregnant pause hung in the air quickly followed by a coldness that swept through Harry’s insides like an icy wind.

“Are you being truthful in your answer?”

“Of course,” came the smooth reply. “We’ve been married for nine years, Mr Bennett, and been together for twelve.”

The latter number gave Harry pause and Ron also seemed to come to the same conclusion. He turned to look at Harry whose fingers tightened around the twin wand still gripped in his palm. Though a darker shade of magic twisted through the wood, it felt so much like his own...

Another long moment of silence followed as Auror Bennett shifted in his seat. The charmed quill hovered above the parchment recording the conversation, waiting.

“Right… And you’ve arrived with a child?”

“Yes, I have, and she belongs to my husband and I,” Riddle answered casually. “She is our daughter, in case the fact were not obvious.”

Bennett’s mouth gave a twitch of irritation. “Mr Riddle, you are aware that two wizards are not…” he waved a hand in the air as if to conjure the right word. “Biologically capable of conceiving a child between them, yes?”

A small, ridiculing smile curved Riddle’s handsome mouth. “I’m wildly aware.”

Bennett blew out a breath of air and sat back in his seat as he began to gather up the quill and parchments. “Right,” he said. “We’ll need to run some tests to confirm your statement, of course.”

A mildly impressed look flashed across Riddle’s expression. “I wasn’t aware magic could reveal such a thing. The future is looking to be quite interesting already.”

When Bennett continued to linger, Riddle flicked a lazy gaze at the man. “Are you asking my permission? Because you may have it, Mr Bennett. I have nothing to hide.”

 _Yes, you do_ , Harry thought as he watched his nemesis lean back in his chair and glance at the child beside him. Wide, aquamarine eyes stared back; lost and a little intimidated.

“In fact, I’d just about agree to anything if it will hurry along this hum-drum nonsense. As I’m sure you’re aware, I have a spouse I wish returned to me soon.”

The steel blue gaze turned to stare through the barrier again and another apprehensive shiver ran down Harry’s spine.

If nothing else, Harry reminded himself, Tom Riddle had always been an excellent liar.

 

* * *

 

Once the questioning ended, Riddle and Evelyn were left to wait in the room while Acting Head Auror Bennett sent for someone to scan their magical cores.

Harry watched in tense, nail-biting silence as the witch muttered a spell and two bright tendrils of magic were sucked out of Riddle and Evelyn’s chest. Where Riddle appeared wary as she did this, Evelyn was awestruck.

The two tendrils met at the tip of the witch’s wand where it just as quickly disappeared, leaving the tip to glow a bright purple before even that was snuffed out.

It was a long while as the witch poured the magical scan samples into two separate bottles. Harry did not fail to notice there was a third one sitting on the side table and knew with certainty that it was his own. It was Auror policy to have their magical 'thumbprint' on record.

After a period of close examination and more spells, the witch seemed to reach a conclusion. She turned to Auror Bennett who cleared his throat as he got up from his chair and ambled over to her.

There was no expression on Bennett’s face as the witch whispered into his ear. Harry normally admired this ability with their line of work being what it was. But he found it difficult to appreciation now when dread filled the pit of his stomach.

“Well, Mr Bennett? Have you found the truth you’ve been looking for?”

Bennett glanced at Riddle who had moved from the table to lean against the wall in the corner of the room. Wearing a thoroughly bored expression on his face, one groomed eyebrow rose in expectation. Bennett ignored it to finally come through to the room where Harry and Ron waited.

After greeting Ron, he nodded to Harry and shook his hand.

“Sir. It’s good to see you back.”

“Good to be back, Bennett,” Harry answered. “Can we confirm the girl’s parentage?”

Bennett shifted and his eyes darted to the side. “Sir, the tests have revealed both yours and Mr Riddle’s magic run through the child’s magical core.”

“What?” Ron sputtered. “That’s bollocks! She didn’t do it right – That can’t be right!”

Whatever Bennett had responded with went unheard. Harry felt like he’d plunged into the deep end of pool. His ears rang and could hardly hear the rest of what was being said to him.

“Auror Potter? Sir?”

Harry tried to focus back on Bennett again. “Sorry, what?”

“Are you certain that this man is who you claim him to be, sir?”

Harry had to bite down on the angry retort and grit out: “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

“No, of course not, sir.” Bennett nodded, looking chastened. But he didn’t seem too certain about the whole thing either.

“So? Are you going to lock him up or what?” Ron asked. “He’s still a psychopath, whether we can confirm he’s from the past or not!”

Bennett shifted uneasily. “Unless we can confirm any criminal activity in this time, I’m afraid we have no grounds to arrest Mr Riddle.”

“You’re shitting me,” Ron said. “Just look in a bloody history textbook and you can see who he is!”

Bennett turned sheepish, discomfort clear in every line of his body. “Apologies, sir, but it’s policy,” Bennett said as he made a move to leave. “You can file a report but people up top might chalk it up to another delusional wizard wanting to be part of the famous Harry Potter’s life, I imagine.”

Harry’s blood boiled and his fists clenched at his sides. Ron sighed heavily and stepped in to thank Bennett before Harry could do or say something he would later regret.

As soon as Bennett left, Harry rounded on his friend. “We can’t just let him go, Ron! We have to do something. I can’t do it again. I can’t let another war happen – ”

Ron grabbed Harry’s shoulder in a tight, grounding grip. “Harry, mate, listen. I know,” he said. “Don’t worry, we won’t take our eyes off the bastard, and if he so much as takes a step out of line we’ll lock him up for good, yeah?”

Harry sighed and tried to relax from the panic bubbling up inside him.

They left the room and found Hermione hurrying over from down the hall. She was stuffing a book into her purse and Harry imagined she’d already charmed it to hold an entire library inside. When she reached them, eyes wide, she said, “What happened? I heard Mallory from the magical biology department was called down here. Did she – ? Is the girl – ?”

Harry didn’t answer and Ron only nodded once. Hermione inhaled a sharp breath and pursed her lips. Harry could feel her probing gaze on him and refused to meet it. He did not want to face this or discuss it at all at the moment.

The sound of the interrogation room door opening made them all turn.

Riddle and the girl stepped out into the hall and paused at the sight of Harry. There was a desperate, earnest look in the girl’s eyes while Riddle’s held and equally intense emotion.

Harry clenched his jaw and turned back to his friends. “I want to keep a close eye on him. I’m not letting him drag us into another war.”

Hermione nodded. “It doesn’t look like they have anywhere to go. We can put them up in Grimmauld Place? You could stay with us, Harry,” she suggested.

Harry shook his head. “No, we’ll put them up in Grimmauld Place but I’m staying there too.”

The steely glint in his eye brooked no argument and a prickle on the back of his neck made him turn again.

Riddle stalked over to stop only a few steps away from Harry. He held out a hand and lifted a pale palm up to him.

“If I may have my wand back, _Auror Potter_?” he said in a smooth, low voice.

The job title seemed to amuse the other man for some reason and it only fueled the flames growing in Harry’s chest. He gripped the twin wand in his hand more tightly and replied, “I’d rather not. At least not until I know what’s going on here.”

Riddle stared at him, pale eyes penetrating. Harry steadfastly held up his Occlumency shields until the slender hand eventually dropped.

The girl at his side looked between the two, her heart-shaped face holding a vulnerable expression.

“I trust that might take a while then,” Riddle said coldly.

Harry fumed and with a heated glare, he shot back: “Look, I’m all ears if you feel like explaining what you’re doing here.”

Riddle’s gaze flickered to Harry’s mouth before returning to his eyes. “Nothing would please me more, my love,” he replied. “Why don’t we return to whatever accommodation you’ve set up for yourself and we can… sort this out.” Two dark, groomed eyebrows rose in challenge.

Harry had to hold back a derogatory snort. “Accommodation? I’m taking you to my own home. The place where I’ve been living for the past fifteen years.”

Riddle made a thoughtful humming sound and it was all Harry could do to keep himself from lashing out.

“I find it interesting,” Riddle said in a nonchalant tone. “As you’ve never used that word to describe a place that didn’t have us before.”

Harry’s mouth gave an unhappy twist. “And that’s according to you, is that right?”

“According to what you once told me yourself, in fact.”

Harry took a deep breath in through his nose. He would not rise to the bait. Tom Riddle could try and fool him all he wanted, but Harry would not give in to his antagonistic tricks.

The sound of Ron clearing his throat brought Harry back to the present. He suddenly realized his friends had been standing back and watching them like it were a Quidditch match.

“Let’s take the Floo, shall we?” Hermione offered.

 

* * *

 

Between Riddle’s gaze burning the back of his skull and the child’s wounded looks, Harry felt uncomfortable at best. But he also couldn’t help a guilty pang of sympathy for the girl; she must be more than a little confused. Whatever lie or story Riddle had fed her…

Harry hated to be the one to have to break the news that he wasn’t her actual father. No matter what the tests said about his and Riddle’s magic. The madman must have done some kind of twisted Dark magic to create her.

Damn Tom Riddle, and damn Voldemort. Harry just couldn’t escape the man, and wouldn’t be surprised if he plagued him even in death.

 

It was late that afternoon when they finally managed to escape the Auror office. They arrived through the Floo into number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry never took his eyes off Riddle as they filed into his living room. Though he still had his wand, Harry didn’t think it would stop the maniac from trying something.

“Which room are you going to put them in?” Hermione asked quietly.

“What about Walburga and Orion’s – ”

Harry cut off Ron’s murmured suggestion with a firm “No, I want him to be close in case he tries anything at night.”

His friends nodded their understanding before Harry moved to seek out Riddle. The man had wandered into the sitting room to examine some of the portraits and books. He turned at Harry’s approach, not caring to hide the way his eyes raked over him as he did. Evelyn was over by the cabinet in the corner, reaching up on her toes to better examine the magical clock ticking a haunting tune atop it.

Harry regarded Riddle warily. “You can stay here for a while, in Regulus’ old room.”

Two groomed brows rose in question. “Really, Harry? After all this time apart, I’d thought we’d begin reacquainting ourselves with the pleasure of being in each other’s company.”

Harry opened his mouth to spit something unsavory at the man when he remembered the presence of the little girl. So he let out a derogatory snort instead. “Not likely, Riddle.”

Riddle hummed, his eyes turning dark as he continued to stare at Harry. “It’s more likely than you think.”

Harry ground his teeth together, his hands turning to fists at his side. But before he could respond, Hermione brushed past him into the room.

“I’ll show you to the room.”

Riddle’s gaze flicked to hers for a moment before sending one last unreadable look at Harry and moved toward her with a jerky movement.

Without another word, Hermione turned on her heel and lead him out of the room and up the staircase. They had only taken five steps when Riddle stopped and looked back over his shoulder into the sitting room. Harry belatedly realized that the girl was still with him.

With growing curiosity, Harry watched Riddle exchange a silent look with her. In response, she did not say a word except to take a step closer to Harry. There was a vulnerability in her expression which made Harry vow he would get to the bottom of who, exactly, she was. She could not possibly be his daughter. Least of all a relation of Tom Riddle’s.

The other man seemed to accept her unspoken wish and continued up the stairs with Hermione.

Evelyn turned to Harry with a tentative smile on her angelic face. Harry shifted awkwardly under the attention. He had no idea what to say or do with her. ‘Hello, I’m not really your father’ seemed a bit harsh for their first exchange of words. So he settled for a polite smile until Ron thankfully took pity and came in to announce he had made some tea.

They all migrated toward the kitchen to have tea, save for Riddle who had busied himself with settling into the room upstairs. It was just as the last drop of tea had been drained of Evelyn’s cup that Hermione was the first to address the elephant in the room.

“Are you hungry, Evelyn? Would you like something to eat?”

The child, who had taken a seat right next to Harry, shook her head.

“Okay, um, would like to play a game then?”

Evelyn seemed to ponder this option but did not respond. She kept eyeing Harry as if seeking his approval for some reason.

“Alright, why don’t we go see what we can find in the house? There’s lots of games Harry keeps for my little girl and boy in the garden shed actually.”

This seemed to pique Evelyn’s interest. With one last glance at Harry, she slid off the chair and followed Hermione through to the back door. As soon as the door shut behind them, Harry let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding in until then.

Ron sent him a sympathetic smile. “Must be mad for you, eh? I can’t even imagine if I had a kid I didn’t even know about.”

“Ron, if I had a kid, I think – memory loss or not – I’d remember it.”

His friend’s smile turned sheepish and the tips of his ears turned pink. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

Harry’s response was interrupted by the sound of the Floo coming to life in the living room. The two instantly got up to see who had arrived when Mrs Weasley bustled in, absently dusting Floo powder off herself with little Rose and Hugo in tow.

Ron lit up at the sight of his children and Harry couldn’t help a rush of warm affection at their arrival too. The two Granger-Weasley kids screeched in delight when they saw Harry and rushed to give him a hug. He responded with enthusiasm before turning to greet Mrs Weasley. He had barely aimed a genuine smile at her when he was suddenly enveloped in a breathtaking embrace. Tears glistened in Mrs Weasley’s eyes when she pulled back.

“Oh, my boy! I thought something terrible had happened to you in that damned forest!”

“Mum,” Ron complained with a pointed look toward the kids.

Rose and Hugo weren’t paying much attention to them though. They peered curiously through to the kitchen door where Hermione and Evelyn had just come back through. The noise must have alerted them to the arrival of new guests. The slightly scrupulous look on Evelyn’s face was hard to miss as she examined the other children in turn.

“Dad, who’s that with mummy?” Rose asked.

Ron bent a little and said, “That’s Evelyn, darling. She and – er, her father – are staying here with Uncle Harry for a few days. Why don’t you go say hello, Rosie? I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

With that, Rose confidently trotted over to extend her hand. “Hullo, my name’s Rose. What’s yours?”

Evelyn examined the other girl for a moment before taking the hand in a delicate way. A polite smile graced her pretty mouth as she replied, “Hello, my name’s Evelyn.” A certain kind of intelligence reflected in her sea green eyes. They flicked toward the adults watching before returning to Rose.

Rose seemed oblivious to the scrutiny and smiled warmly. “Do you want to help me colour in my book?” She held up the book she’d brought from home. At Evelyn’s slow nod, Rose’s mouth split into another bright grin. She went to clamber up onto the bench at the kitchen table before laying out her colouring books and inks.

Meanwhile Hugo’s hand had latched onto Ron’s and he looked uncertainly at the two girls. Ron smirked and wiggled the small hand in his. “Go on. Girls don’t bite,” he said. “Usually.”

After a moment of hesitation, Hugo toddled off to join them at the table. Meanwhile the adults had taken to surreptitiously watch as they played together.

“Oh, well isn’t that nice,” Mrs Weasley said, oblivious to the fact that the third child could possibly be the Dark Lord’s spawn.

“Harry, dear, have you been fed?”

Before he could answer though, Mrs Weasley patted his arms and tutted. “Of course not, look at you! Skinny as a rail.” She brushed past him into the kitchen. “I’ll cook up a little soup for lunch. Don’t you worry, it won’t take a bit!”

Ron shared a grin with Harry before Hermione joined them again. “Right,” Harry said. “Why don’t we get settled in the living room, I want to know what I’ve apparently missed.”

“But what about… You-Know-Who?” Ron asked as they migrated toward the sitting room again.

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath about having ‘Been through this before, Ronald.’

“I don’t think he’s … well, _him_. Not really, anyway. I don’t know how, but I think this version of Tom Riddle could be from a different time.”

“No kidding?”

Harry shot him an annoyed look. “Well, one where he didn’t go all…”

“Psychopathic?” Ron offered at the same time Hermione said, “Megalomaniacal?”

Harry puffed out a breath of laughter. “Yes, and yes. I’ve set up a few wards to tell me where he goes. I’ve also got his wand so I can’t imagine he’ll be able to do too much damage without it.”

“Good,” Ron said with a nod. “Nice one, mate. Good precaution.”

There’s a brief lull in the conversation where the children’s chatter from the kitchen made it sound like any other Weasley family get-together. From the delicious smells of Mrs Weasley’s cooking wafting through the grim old house, to the familiar company of close friends. It filled Harry’s heart. But past experience told him it would only last until he was alone again.

“So,” Harry began again, and looked to his friends expectantly. “Twelve days, was it?”

“Merlin, Harry, everyone thought you’d died!” Ron burst out. 

Hermione looked suspiciously misty-eyed. “Eventually even we had to accept that… something might have happened. After you didn’t show up for three days. Oh, Harry, it was awful!” She buried her face in her hands and Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulder to rub her back.

A pang of guilt struck Harry’s heart and he leaned over to take her hands away from her face. “Hey, I’m here. I’m alive. And third time isn’t the charm, it seems,” he said with an attempt at a smile. “Besides, when have you ever known me to actually die when I was supposed to?”

Hermione let out a watery laugh. “That’s exactly what Ron said,” she mumbled and sent her husband a fond, exasperated look.

Ron grinned back. “And I was right though, wasn’t I?”

An internal trigger flipped and Harry straightened in his seat. A moment later Riddle appeared at the bottom of the stairs, eyes still tired-looking as they glanced toward the sound of children’s babble from the kitchen. Curiosity satisfied, the tall, brooding man finally joined them in the living room. As he came through, he surveyed them all sitting there before his dark gaze locked on Harry. The look aimed at him was strangely intense and made Harry feel exposed. Like he’d been stripped bare and seen right through. He averted his eyes as Riddle came to sit far too close to him on the sofa, much to Harry’s annoyance.

Ron cleared his throat and no one seemed to want to be the first to broach the subject.

Riddle gave them all a curious look. “At last, I’m finally able to meet the infamous Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger – Excuse me. Now Granger-Weasley, as I understand it.”

Harry froze. “How did you – ?”

Riddle shot him a raised brow.

There was no way Tom Riddle from the past would have known that. Unless he’d been in this time longer than he’d let on. He could have been here for years, just watching and waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Harry’s mind raced with the possibilities and how it could be connected to his disappearance and sudden reappearance in the forest.

A heavy sigh brought Harry out of his thoughts to find Riddle leaned back against the couch. He looked cool and smooth as ever despite the gaunt look that lingered around his eyes.

“Relax, my love,” he said, and reached for Harry’s cheek with the arm around the back of the sofa. Harry flinched away from the contact and the hand dropped. “You’re the one who told me about them in the first place. Or do you think nine years of marriage and I wouldn’t remember two of the most important people in your life?”

Harry was rendered speechless and so, it seemed, were Ron and Hermione when he looked to them.

“Are you really him?” Hermione blurted.

Riddle slid his cool gaze to her and she flushed. Harry couldn’t blame her, the man – although evil – was unquestionably handsome.

“If by that you mean the future Dark Lord, then I suppose I am,” Riddle replied. “You may perform your genetic spells to test the truth of it if you doubt me.”

“Er – No, that’s… quite alright,” she mumbled with a perplexed frown. “But – How did you get here? Was it a time-turner? Did you hide it before contacting Harry? Because we never found one on you when you were taken into the Ministry.”

Riddle’s gaze returned to Harry who shied away from the sudden attention. It was too familiar, somehow. Like Riddle were mapping out his face or retracing his features. Harry tried to shift further away on the sofa but found, to his dismay, that there was no space left.

“I arrived the same way my husband did,” Riddle replied, and Harry rankled at the continued use of that word for him.

Bypassing it entirely, Hermione pressed: “How?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t remember it…” Riddle murmured to Harry before he finally tore his gaze away to rest on her again. “Through the forest.”

Hermione seemed to be on the edge of her seat. “What forest? The one by Little Hangleton? That’s where Harry disappeared!”

“And woke up in again too,” Harry added.

“It wasn’t so much the forest, as it was the flowers,” Riddle corrected. “A magical variety called the Travelling Blossom though I’ve heard it goes by a few different names. The only text on it I could come by was from an obscure tome possessed by a man in a small village in Estonia. He had many rare finds, in fact…”

The gears were turning in Hermione’s mind. “Do you remember what the flower looked like?”

Before Riddle could answer though, Rose came rushing into the living room and both her parents were instantly on the alert, clearly sensing something was amiss. “Rosie, what’s the matter?” Hermione said.

“Mummy, there’s something wrong with Evelyn!” Rose cried.

Before the words fully left her mouth, Riddle shot up from the sofa and began marching into the kitchen where Molly was already fussing over Evelyn. The raven-haired little girl sat slumped at the table, a quill held in a limp grip. Hugo stood beside her, wide-eyed and confused.

“My wand.”

It took a moment to process the clipped words. But when they did, Harry quickly fumbled out the twin wand from his robes. There was only a second of hesitancy before he handed it over though. Eventually the tightness and urgency in the other man’s face convinced Harry it was important.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Riddle cast a levitating charm and Evelyn slowly rose into the air. Her angelic face was pale and listless. Her lips kept moving with mutterings that were too indistinct for Harry to hear properly. Her cropped, dark hair hung in limp, messy tendrils as she floated past them toward the stairs, Riddle close behind. Harry immediately followed.

Once upstairs, Riddle lay her down on the bed in Regulus’ room. It was the closest one to Sirius’ old one, where Harry slept, and the best way to keep a close eye on them. Evelyn was still muttering under her breath and Riddle wasn’t answering Harry’s questions.

“What’s she saying? Riddle – ” Harry began again when the other man hushed him and once again aimed his wand at Evelyn. This time he muttered an unknown spell and her eyes drifted closed, her small body relaxing into stillness. Harry could only stare in deep concern.

“It’s the only thing that will help for now,” Riddle explained. “She should be fine by tomorrow morning.”

“What did you do?”

“A simple calming charm. Mild enough for children her age but strong enough to induce sleep.”

She still looked too pale lying there and Harry felt the irresistible urge to check if she was still breathing. There was an inexplicable itch forming under his skin at seeing her like this. It felt inherently wrong. Though she couldn’t be his child, the thought of her being ill bothered him more than he thought it would. But if Riddle said it would be fine, then why should he question it?

Because he’s an evil lying bastard and not to be trusted, that’s why.

Harry stepped away from the bed and toward Riddle who rummaged through a beaten up old luggage bag. With another glance at Evelyn, Harry asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

A muscle in Riddle’s jaw flexed and he paused in his search of the bag. Without looking up, he replied, “She’s ill. Has been for the past two years. I…” He faltered as if the next words were difficult to say. “It may be getting worse.”

Harry swallowed carefully. “Well, do you know what it is? Can’t it be cured?”

“No, it can’t!” Riddle snapped. “Because it is not a disease known to either muggle or wizardkind. It’s her… soul… that is the problem.”

He renewed his search in the bag and Harry furrowed his brow and set his jaw. “You’re going to have to explain a bit more, Riddle. Her soul?”

Riddle huffed out an irritated sigh before he hissed: “ _Come out little prince._ ”

Harry blinked at the sudden slip into Parseltongue and how it didn’t feel odd to hear it at all. It had been years since he’d last heard it come from anyone’s mouth but his own. Only once in a while he’d find himself out in the field or in his own garden when a snake would appear and he’d have a little chat. It wasn’t something Hermione and Ron knew about though, and Harry preferred to keep it that way. He already hated that the ability hadn’t died with Voldemort. It was just another scar, another reminder, that he’d prefer to forget existed altogether.

Harry wondered why Riddle spoke it now when a small, smooth green head emerged from the suitcase. Its forked tongue flickered in and out, tasting the air.

“ _Nessst iss warm._ ” Its slitted eyes blinked at Harry, head weaving slightly. “ _Birth giver hasss returned. Mother will be pleasssed._ ”

Harry frowned at the unexpected sight before him.

“Evidently, something had gone wrong when Evelyn was taken from the place she was conceived,” Riddle explained. “Something we missed in the text, so now the magic wants her returned.”

It took a moment for Harry to refocus, but when the words hit, he was horrified. Both at the mention of a mysterious place that conceived children, and the idea that the child was apparently… dying?

“Taken? From where?”

“I don’t know,” Riddle admitted. “There was very little information about it to begin with.”

“And yet you went and stole her from some magical dimension anyway? Without even thinking about what it might do to her? You have to take her back!”

Icy eyes flashed dangerously and in an abrupt whirl of robes, Riddle stood to push his face close into Harry’s space. “She. Is. Our. Daughter,” he hissed. “And you were the one to take her, not me.”

Harry still didn’t believe him but he didn’t think arguing about it would get them anywhere now. And now was definitely not the time.

“Well, we have to do something,” Harry said, that itch turning into a desperate burn.

“You think I haven’t tried everything?” Riddle snapped, standing again but with the snake coiled around his wrist now. Cold fury began to ooze from him as he continued. “I’ve exhausted countless hours, days, and months trying to find anything on blood magic and found _nothing_ for my efforts. I’ve searched across every continent and little crevice and hole on this vile planet for some shred of how to keep her alive. And all the while looking for _you_  as well. But everywhere I looked – _everywhere_ – I found NOTHING!” Riddle was positively bellowing by the end of his rant and it looked like it took a lot out of him too. His chest heaved with incensed breaths, eyes wide and manic.

Harry didn’t know what to say or think about this new information. For all it appeared, Riddle wasn’t lying about this.

But then Harry could never trust someone like him. Even if passion like what he’d just seen was not an easy thing to fabricate. Riddle really seemed to have been trying his best to help his… their… daughter. All while trying to look for Harry as well.

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek but refused to apologize.

“Okay.”

Riddle made a tired, dismissive sound. “I don’t need an apology. I want…” he trailed off on a hard swallow and didn’t say anything more.

Harry didn’t push it but he couldn’t help but stare in wonder and disbelief at this new side of Riddle. He never imagined he’d see such a – dare he say it? – _human_ version of Voldemort.

“We’ll figure something out,” Harry said. “I’ve never known Hermione to not find something out before, not when she really wants to. And we’ve got more information now, besides. Magical knowledge has come a long way since the forties.”

The other man remained silent but Harry took it as good as acquiescence.


	3. Child of Mine

Although he did not entirely believe Riddle’s story about them having had a life together, what Harry could believe was that the child was in trouble.

After leaving Riddle upstairs with the girl, Harry went to rejoin the others for an early dinner. The table in the kitchen had been set and the Granger-Weasley clan had assembled around it to serve themselves.

“Oh!” Mrs Weasley said when she saw Harry. “What about your friend, dear? Is everything alright? That poor child, she looked pale as a ghost.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck. “She’s just feeling a bit ill after travelling. First time using a Portkey and everything, you know,” he muttered as he took his seat. “Um... but he’s going to stay up there with her for a while though.”

Mrs Weasley looked slightly put out that the strangers wouldn’t be tasting her food. “The poor things, that’s quite alright. I’ll take some up to them now – ”

Harry immediately opened his mouth to protest when Hugo cheerfully called out, “I’ll do it!”

The loud scrape of a chair and raised voices signaled Ron and Hermione’s hasty objection. At the odd looks Mrs Weasley and the children gave them, Hermione coughed into her napkin while Ron put on a reassuring smile.

“T-That’s very good of you, Hugo, but we’ll let Uncle Harry do it, okay?” Ron said. “Evelyn’s just… she’s resting now so – ”

“We shouldn’t disturb her too much,” Hermione added.

Hugo pouted until Rose distracted him with taking something off his plate and any disappointment was soon forgotten in favour of arguing with her.

The trio exchanged relieved glances before everyone dug in to their dinner. Meanwhile, Harry delivered the meals upstairs with a flick of his wand and an variation of the levitation charm, not wanting to face Riddle and the child again so soon. He still couldn’t get the image of her looking so weak out of his head.

They all ate in relative silence, considering how quiet it could be with two Granger-Weasley children around. Rose argued loudly about something she knew she was right about while Hugo protested for the sake of being contrary. Most of the time the bickering would amuse and comfort Harry but his mind was too preoccupied with his unexpected guests upstairs. Any concerned questions from Mrs Weasley were answered as vaguely as possible so as not to give away exactly who Riddle was. Or rather, who he would be. Neither was it mentioned that Harry could have possibly – maybe – been married to said person for nine years. Or that the child might be his too, and made from a bit of highly dubious magic.

When lunch concluded, Mrs Weasley left for the Burrow. But it wasn’t without the promise that she’d be vising again soon. Arthur was apparently ‘terribly worried’ and wanted to see him if the Ministry wasn’t so chaotic with his sudden reappearance. Hugo and Rose had migrated toward the living room again to play while Ron and Hermione helped Harry clear up.

“You know, Harry, there might just be something to what he’s saying,” Hermione ventured after he’d told them what Riddle said to him upstairs.

Harry rounded on her. “Are you mad? Hermione, you can’t actually believe that I somehow managed to get over the fact that not only did this man murder my parents, but practically everyone I – _we_ – love, and then what? Married him? Had a bloody child with him? You’re insane.”

Hermione sniffed. “Well, it doesn’t add up, if you ask me.”

“Of course it bloody doesn’t,” Harry grumbled and overdid it on a drying spell so that a hairline split formed in one of the plates.

“It sounds ridiculous, but think about it for a moment. Harry, you went missing for twelve days,” Ron pointed out. “And then he claims to have been with you… for twelve years.”

"So what? He’s lying! Maybe he kidnapped me, I don’t know..." Harry said before he lost steam and ended off his protest with an agitated sigh. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t know what to say to it all, least of all what to think. So instead he moved to leave the kitchen.

“Look, thanks for the help but – I can’t…” He made a vague gesture with his hand before running it through his hair. “I just can’t think about this now. I’m sorry, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

With a quick goodbye to the kids in the living room, Harry returned upstairs.

On his way to his room, he stopped in the hall at the sound of his name spoken in a low, attractive voice. Heart in his throat, Harry spun round to see Riddle on the landing behind him. He looked like he’d just come from Regulus’ old room.

Harry was surprised to find the other man looked more worn down than when he first saw him. There were shadows under his eyes and a weary supplication in their depths. Despite the human quality of the vision Riddle presented, Harry stiffened on instinct.

“If you truly don’t believe me, then let me show you.”

Harry hesitated before he realized what Riddle wanted to do. A Pensieve sat in one of the old, unused rooms which meant the other man must have already been nosing about to even find it. The thought of his enemy already taking liberties to scope out the layout and contents of the house set Harry on edge.

“Memories can be altered,” Harry said in a dismissive tone. “And if anyone knows how twisted your mind is, it’s me. I’m sure you could make yourself believe anything you wanted just to try and convince me for some evil plan – ”

“Harry, enough.”

The rest of Harry’s words stuck in his throat at the soft plea. Merlin, either Riddle was a really good liar or he really was a changed man. Whichever it was, one thing was certain and it was that Harry wasn’t about to let his guard down now.

“Sleep well, Tom,” Harry said, and turned to leave.

Except he hadn’t gone two steps when he was abruptly grabbed by his elbow. Lightning quick reflexes had Harry’s wand in his hand and pointed at Riddle in the next second.

The other man neither flinched nor let him go. But for one whose expression was usually so composed and calm, the quiet desperation in Riddle’s eyes was disconcerting and alien.

“I’d never lie to you. Never to you, and not about this.”

The words had the hairs on Harry’s neck stand on end and he pulled away while inwardly assuring himself it was not because of that too-intense gaze. He did not want to think of how it was too full of some unnamed emotion, of a long history that he was not a part of. He couldn’t have been.

Squaring his jaw, Harry said in a clipped voice: “I’ve told the others about Evelyn. We’ll look at it more closely in the morning.”

There was no answer except a shuttering of the other man’s expression. But when Harry threw a brief glance over his shoulder again, Riddle looked as stony-faced and cold as ever. If the person he’d seen before were at all real and not some illusion, his heart would have ached. But Harry had to remind himself he couldn’t hold too much sympathy for the devil.

 

* * *

 

_Shapes moved in the dark, the outline of mouths sliding against one another. Two figures touch, grab, lean into each other until they are burned away by the bright colours and high-pitched sound of something spinning, spinning, spinning…_

Harry woke the next morning to the pounding of feet on carpeted floors. With a considerable effort, he tried to rouse himself to full wakefulness. But the action proved difficult for some reason. He was terribly comfortable and was only vaguely aware of an unusually solid warmth at his back.

When a panicked shout came a moment later, Harry jolted upright, on high alert. And not a second later did he register that the warmth he felt was that of a sleeping child.

Evelyn lay curled up beside him in a small ball, sucking lightly on her thumb. Harry stared in open astonishment and scrubbed a hand over his face to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming. On a side note, she seemed a lot better this morning. Some colour had returned to her cheeks and her heart-shaped face appeared more peaceful and cherubic in sleep. But a flash of green movement from round her neck had Harry scramble back on the bed.

A small head weaved its way through the black locks of hair and slowly blinked slitted eyes at him. “ _Very bright. It isss time to wake._ ”

A loud bang signaled Riddle’s abrupt entrance into his bedroom. When he saw Harry, a matching look of surprise coloured his expression. The two men looked at one another for one uncomfortable minute before Riddle visibly deflated. “Apologies. I thought…” he began but cut himself off and finished with a clipped response of “I’ll take her back to the other room.”

Harry stopped him with a groggy wave of his hand. “No, ‘s alright,” he mumbled. “Let her sleep.”

A muscle in Riddle’s face twitched but he did not move to get her again. Instead he remained in the middle of the doorway, neither saying nor doing anything. Simply content to watch the two of them in bed.

Harry did not doubt he would do just that if he didn’t explicitly tell him to bugger off soon. But rather than do that, Harry threw off the duvet and got out of bed.

He tried to ignore the obvious once-over the other man gave him in his boxers and t-shirt. Then shuddered at the thought of the Dark Lord checking him out before he wrapped a silk robe round himself.

“Breakfast?”

Rather than wait for a response, Harry brushed passed Riddle onto the landing. The shape which moved in his peripheral vision let him know he was being followed.

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was a painful affair. Never in his life had Harry expected to be asking the murderer of his parents how he’d like his eggs done in the morning. Or whether he wanted tea or coffee with his meal, but tried to push past it. If only for the sake of his sanity and the child currently sleeping in his bed right now.

Harry blinked into his cup of coffee and drank several scalding sips until he could be sure he was really awake. 

Circe help him, what had his life become?

The two men ate in excruciating silence, or at least for Harry it was. Riddle, on the other hand, appeared completely at ease. More often than not his eyes would stray to Harry and simply gaze at him until an agitated flash of green eyes lowered them again. Whenever Harry caught him at it, he’d expect Riddle to show at least a sliver of embarrassment. Or some modicum of discretion. But of course he did not, and Harry didn’t know why he’d expected differently in the first place.

It was only when a piercing wail came from upstairs that the awkwardness of the situation was put to an end.

Both men’s heads whipped round at the noise before Harry pushed back his chair to go see what was wrong. Riddle followed, hot on his heels. But as Harry began to near the stairs, a doleful _thump thump thump_ from a pair of feet sounded coming down. Next thing, a scrunched, red, and tear-stained little face greeted them at the bottom of the steps.

As soon as Harry’s presence registered, the girl moaned, “Daddy!” and two small arms shot out, demanding to be picked up. After a brief moment of hesitation, and a look to Riddle – being of absolutely no help at all, much to his non-surprise – Harry decided it best to just do as the crying child waited.

Harry heaved her up onto his hip where her sobs began to peter off into snotty sniffles.

“Um – Is there something wrong?” Harry ventured to ask after a while.

Evelyn sniffed again and pressed the heel of her hand against her eye. “I th-thought Da-addy had g-gone again-n-n…!”

Her bottom lip began to wobble dangerously and Harry was quick to reassure: “It’s okay, don’t cry – I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

A sorrowful and intelligent teal-coloured gaze turned on him. It was disconcerting and led Harry to the realization of what he’d just said. Which was to essentially admit the validity of the story Riddle had woven. And without meaning to, Harry had promised something he maybe shouldn’t have.

Unable to undo the mistake or go back on his words, Harry forged on as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “Are you okay now? Do you want to be put down again?”

A vigorously shake of her head was Evelyn’s answer before she tipped it to rest against his shoulder. Small fingers curled into the silk of his dressing gown and seemed content to just be held for the moment.

Harry did not know what to do next; the whole experience was far too strange. Especially when, despite that, he could not help feeling just a little… content as well. He gazed at the top of the girl’s unbrushed head of midnight hair. Without thinking, his arms tightened round her as if on instinct.

After a minute or so passed, when he happened to chance a look up again, Harry was taken aback to find Riddle still standing there. The other man watched him with that same unnameable expression in his eyes he’s had since finding Harry.

Harry tore his gaze away and gave the girl’s back a ginger pat. “Are you hungry?” he asked. When she nodded against his shoulder, he said, “Do you want to come have breakfast?”

Before she could answer, a strange, low hissing sound came from somewhere in the house. It became louder and Harry realized it was coming from outside the front door. Immediately on alert, Harry placed Evelyn back on the ground before taking out his wand.

He cautiously neared the door, wand raised, before he slowly reached out and turned the knob.

When it swung open, a massive six foot snake reared up and Harry staggered backwards, heart in his throat. But before he could throw out a spell, long and slender fingers curled around his wrist.

Riddle pushed past Harry, an almost relieved expression on his face.

“ _I was beginning to wonder where you’d gone.”_

The snake swayed its head, slit eyes narrowed. _“Massster had left me in the wood.”_

 _“I knew you would find your way back,”_ Riddle said.

The snake gave another displeased hiss before it dropped to the ground and slithered past their feet.

"Eventually," Riddle added in muttered English.

The snake turned to Harry and its tongue flicked out a few times. Harry shifted away nervously. It looked like it wanted to take a bite out of him.

“ _Massster’ss mate is afraid.”_

 _“He cannot remember us,”_ Riddle replied in an unreadable tone.

The snake remained silent, contemplative.

But the moment was soon cut short when Evelyn came bounding over and shrieked “Nagini!” before she dropped to her knees and pulled the snake against her chest. Nagini wrapped her upper body loosely around Evelyn's neck, too heavy for the little girl to bear her whole weight. Meanwhile Apep had apparently been unceremoniously dropped on the stairs at some point. His tiny body slithered down the last step and made a bee-line for the larger snake. His tongue flickered in and out excitedly.

“ _Ssissster isss with usss at lasst_.”

He nipped at Nagini who reared back angrily.

“ _And little brother iss sstill asss annoying.”_

Harry stared in confused wonder at the scene before him. At this familiarity that made it seem like he had once been part of it. Harry wondered again what it would be like to have his memories restored. To have a history with this family he could remember.

Once everyone had settled down and Harry came to terms with the fact Voldemort’s once-horcrux had appeared out of the blue, they migrated back toward the kitchen. Despite the small tantrum of only ten minutes ago, Evelyn had perked up considerably by the time she was at the table. Apep meandered across the surface in an inquisitive manner. Meanwhile Riddle settled himself at the other end, contented to read The Daily Prophet with a fresh mug of coffee in front of him. Nagini seemed to prefer slithering off to find a nice warm place to nest.

For his part, Harry began to cook some more eggs and bacon. But as he puttered around, Evelyn began to hum a tune as she drew idle pictures on pieces of parchment left from last night.

“Ohh-oo-oh, sweet child of mine…”

Harry froze in pouring a glass of pumpkin juice at the softly sung words. Something in him felt that this was familiar somehow. He just couldn’t quite place his finger on it...

“Ohh-oo-oh, sweet love of mine,” Evelyn continued in a voice that sounded like tinkling bells.

_She’s got a smile that it seems to me reminds me of childhood memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky…_

Harry blinked and the flash of memory was gone too soon. He knew that song. But what didn’t make sense was…

“Where’d you hear that before?” Harry asked the girl sitting at the table.

Evelyn did not bother to look up from her drawing. “From you, daddy. You always sing it when I have bad dreams.”

Harry stared. Could that be true? If not, there was no way this child would know a song that was before her time. Least of all a muggle one.

There was another flash of memory, but stronger this time; Harry was seven years old and left alone at home again, more than likely forgotten. The Dursleys had gone out to celebrate Vernon’s promotion at work. Harry had crept out of his little cupboard and it was moments like then that he felt the most free. A true sense of exaltation at the fantasy that he was not his relatives’ prisoner and burden anymore. Harry had total domain of the house. He’d scavenge in the fridge or play with as many of Dudley’s toys as he wanted. Because there wasn’t anyone to tell him he wasn’t allowed.

Sometimes he’d even turn on the telly and it flip through the channels. One night in particular, he’d just discovered MTV; a channel dedicated to mostly music. Then the chords of a guitar began to sing through the house at full blast and Harry was a rock star. He bobbed his head and jumped on the sofas, scrawny arms pumping as they wildly strummed an imaginary air guitar. 

It was a recurring fantasy of his as a young child, to be some famous musician. Or an astronaut. But that was all until reality came crashing back by way of his relatives’ return. Or with the news that he was The Boy Who Lived, destined to defeat a Dark Lord.

It was only in his sixth year, when the world felt like it was crumbling around him, that he remembered the song. So eventually he scrounged up enough pocket money to go out and buy the CD. He’d played it on repeat, using Dudley’s old portable Walkman. (Assumed broken but really wasn’t too bad except for the occasional skip). Harry had listened and quietly sang along to himself while in the dark space of his cupboard. Once more pretending to be somewhere and someone else.

The song had been ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’. A 1987 hit that an eight-year-old girl from the forties was singing in his kitchen now.

Harry blinked at Evelyn sitting at the table and realized she would never have even heard that song before. Not unless he had taught it to her. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. It couldn’t be… Could it? Was everything Riddle said about them true? Unbidden, an image bubbled to the surface of Harry’s mind; of himself singing to her. He inwardly cringed and knew it couldn’t have been any good, yet she must have liked it enough if she knew all the words. Harry wondered if she asked him to sing it to her before bedtime too.

And did it annoy Riddle?

For some reason the thought had a smirk tugging at the corner of Harry’s mouth. Then, just as suddenly, it was wiped away again.

Merlin, this was _the Dark Lord_ , not his husband or the father of his child! _Tom Marvolo Riddle._ Infamous scourge to the entire wizarding society, and the same man whom he thought he’d finally gotten rid of a long, long time ago.

When Harry looked up again, it was to find the man in question watching him from over the newspaper. Harry did his best to look like he didn’t notice but his stomach was doing flips. His mind and heart warred with one another.

Then Evelyn’s small inquisitive voice sliced through his inner turmoil.

“Daddy, how come you have so much food now?” she said. “And how come you live in such a big house too? I thought we didn’t have a lot of money…”

Harry blinked at the unexpected questions and wished she would stop calling him by that word. It was only making everything so much harder to unravel.

 

* * *

 

After changing into a proper set of clothes, Harry made his way to the Black family library. His initial hope was to get a head start on searching for something useful. But his journey got cut short by the sound of his name being called again. It was the same voice he kept hearing these days; not quite the same as the one which haunted his dreams, but eerily familiar.

Harry’s eyes closed in dread anyway and without turning, he heard it come again.

“Harry.”

Harry turned, jaw clenched, and took a slow breath in and out. “Fine,” he said. “Show me how she was… made. It could help us narrow down the search.”

Because he also burned with curiosity and Hermione was right. There was something wrong here and they had to get to the bottom of it, no matter how improbable the facts seemed.

Harry let Riddle lead them to the Pensieve in one of the empty rooms, now used for storing all the more grim or redundant Black family possessions. Harry watched as Riddle went to stand beside the basin of water and extracted from his temple a single fine, silvery tendril of memory. As it touched the water, the still surface rippled and the reflections distorted. Dark eyes turned to him and Harry said, “After you.”

There was an irritated twitch to Riddle’s eye but he lowered his face obligingly, and only then did Harry do the same.

In the next moment they plunged into an entirely different world.

It was a dimly lit, wood-paneled room. The floorboards creaked, much like number twelve, Grimmauld Place. But this house was not as lavish. The room was bare, holding nothing but a crib with a few moth-eaten blankets. Harry held an infant in his arms, eyes alight with a mixture of wonder and adoration. It took Harry’s breath away to see it so plainly written there in every line of his body. He clearly loved this child deeply.

After a moment of silence, Harry began to hum a low tune and gentle words soon followed: “She’s got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain. I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain…”

“You used to sing it to her when she was a baby as well,” Riddle said calmly. “It comforts her when she has nightmares.”

“Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place,” Harry continued to sing. “Where as a child I’d hide and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by…”

The world shifted and the picture before them morphed into that of a small kitchen.

“What is this? What’s going on?” Harry demanded. But the question went unanswered, and his attention caught on the sight of a little round table. He and Riddle were sat around it, clearly in the middle of eating a meal.

But this time a rosy-cheeked little girl, no older than two, sat in a high-chair between them. A huge smile spread across Harry’s lips as he fed her a bit of potato from his fork. The tiny mouth eagerly opened in a perfect 'O' shape. But as soon as it closed around the food, her face contorted into one of open disgust and confusion. Harry’s low chuckle echoed in the tiny kitchen and even Riddle had the ghost of a smile on his lips. But his eyes were alight with an unnameable emotion as they watched his husband and daughter.

The sudden rattle of cutlery interrupted the warm moment and smiles fell away. The two men knew what they’d have to do next.

A vermilion light bloomed in the darkness through their kitchen window. Only slightly obscured by the large 'X's taped over them. Yet Evelyn played on, oblivious as her tiny fingers now examined a slice of carrot left on her plate.

“Enough.”

Harry yanked his head from the basin of water and stood, trying to process what he’d seen.

Meanwhile Riddle stood close by, watching.

Harry knew the memories would play inside his head over and over, as if burned into his brain, even when he closed his eyes at night. It’s all he’ll end up dreaming about. He couldn’t keep the anger from clouding his voice when he said, “That wasn’t what you were supposed to show me.”

“But it’s what you needed to see,” Riddle replied with a leveled gaze.

Harry bit down on another furious retort. “Ron and Hermione will be over soon,” he grit out. “We’re going to look through the library about this… magical birthing ritual.”

And with that, Harry left before he could be smothered with what he’d just witnessed. Of him with a family, struggling to survive together. Poor, in the midst of a war, but happy.

 

* * *

 

The three friends exchanged a curious and wary look before they followed Riddle into the room with the Pensieve.

Harry wasn’t quite ready to face Riddle’s memories again but knew there was no other way. A child's life depended on this. It was clearly a cause both his friends cared about too, otherwise they wouldn’t be there at all.

Just as before, Riddle placed the tip of his wand to his temple. But before he could extract anything, Harry seized him by the elbow and when their eyes met, he said lowly, “No games this time.”

Riddle didn’t respond but his gaze did drop to Harry’s lips for a moment who let go as if burned before pulling away.

Again, Harry plunged into a different world.

But this time his friends were beside him. And he could only hope Riddle wouldn’t show anything other than what was relevant to their search.

When Harry looked around this time, it was to discover they stood on part of a hill in the midst of an old city. A large body of dark water stretched before them, framed all around with rolling green hills and a mound that looked like a miniature cliff. There was no one around though a paved walk path lead all round one side of the pond. The sky was lit in a gorgeous glow of vermilion and rosy hues, softening everything into a world of twilight.

“Isn’t this…?” Hermione began when Riddle cut in with the answer:

“Dunsapie Loch,” he said. “We thought it a suitably private and peaceful place to perform the ceremony.”

Well, it certainly looked beautiful. Harry caught sight of two figures walking up the path from the other direction and instantly recognized them to be himself and Riddle. They were wrapped in warm clothing for there was a chill breeze blowing from down the hills. But then his eyes zeroed in on their hands which were… intertwined.

Harry couldn’t help but gape at the fond smile on his memory-self. It was a surreal picture in and of itself. But his thoughts were interrupted when the two finally reached the edge of the pond and set down a bag. Harry’s Pensieve-self crouched before opening it to reveal what looked like blankets and bottled milk. But when Pensieve-Harry stuck his hand in, it was to retrieve another cloth sack which he emptied into his palm.

Harry frowned at the sight of a pile of tiny white bones.

“They were taken from the grave of a stillborn.”

Harry flashed a surly look at the man beside him. “Brilliant. So you turned me into a grave robber as well?”

There was no answer as Pensieve-Riddle took out another item from his coat pocket. It was a small silver blade and Harry’s eyes widened. He shifted on his feet as the memory versions of himself and Riddle turned toward the pond.

First, Harry drew his wand and sent the collection of bones to drop far into the middle of the pond. Then Riddle turned and handed him the blade with which he promptly made a neat cut into his palm. After he returned it, Riddle did the same and together they held their hands over the edge of the water. A small trickle of blood dropped from their palms into the gently rippling surface.

There was a long moment in which nothing happened and Harry feared they’d done something wrong. Then a fierce wind began to blow and the sky darkened from twilight to dusk. In the next second, both Riddle and Harry’s wands pointed at the water as they muttered a spell in unison.

The water rippled and bubbled and the Pensieve version of Harry turned to look at his companion. Pensieve-Riddle leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. His lips moved as he murmured something to his memory-self that Harry couldn’t hear.

“I promised I’d pull you out if you didn’t surface after the hour was up.”

Harry frowned. “Why me? Couldn’t you have done it yourself?”

“The ritual called for the carrier to be pure of heart,” Riddle answered wryly, and turned to look at him. “In other words, my hands were not exactly clean and the ritual would not be able to conjure a soul that was innocent. As that is primarily what infants are when they are born, is it not, my love?”

Harry’s eye twitched at the term of endearment. “So if you'd have done it, would it have conjured up a demon?"

The sharp look Riddle threw him was absolutely worth the remark. Harry silently congratulated himself on his wit before he turned his attention back to the scene.

He watched himself pull off his coat and shoes before walking into the pond. He waded far enough that the water reached his shoulders until he submerged himself, and that’s when the wait began. Seconds turned to minutes. The water had stilled but quickly darkened into an alarming shade of crimson. The Pensieve version of Riddle paced at the edge of the water, gaze never leaving the spot where Harry had disappeared.

At last, when nearly an hour had passed, Riddle tore off his own coat before plunging into the pool. He swam out as far as Harry had gone before he dived down deep. Meanwhile Harry and his company suffered another nerve-wracking wait. They watched in anxious silence until two heads finally resurfaced a minute later. Pensieve-Harry gasped and coughed as soon as his head was above water. The thick red colour of it covered every inch of him, plastering down his black hair and masking his pale skin. But as the two swam closer to the edge of the pond, Harry saw something emerge with him.

Wriggling within his arms was a mass of tiny limbs. A small cry erupted from the little round head, face scrunched up with furious discomfort.

Once they were safely back on land and sitting on the grass, the two men gazed in equal awe at the infant squealing between them. Harry let out a laugh and carefully handed the child over to Riddle who cradled it with surprising gentleness. The picture the two of them made was ridiculous, drenched in blood-like water and grinning at the newborn between them. Yet the sight made Harry’s heart clench in a crippling envy. Though he knew it was himself that experienced it, he felt robbed at the same time. Of remembering such a clearly cherish-able moment. It almost felt like it wasn't him at all. And for some reason, he found he truly wanted it to be. So much so that it physically hurt.

The revelation of this was both startling and terrifying. So of course, Harry could only do what he’d always done since the war: Pushed it aside. Buried it deep within the back of his mind. Because the truth of the matter was that he was not allowed to want this. Tom Riddle was not someone he could want this with. Ever. 

The room was silent when they surfaced and Harry found he couldn’t meet the quizzical eyes of his friends. An awkward cough from Ron broke it and Harry snapped, “Right, let’s get on with it, yeah?”

They spent most of the day scouring the Black library. By the time late afternoon rolled around, Ron had slumped in his armchair, mouth open and snoring loudly. Books littered their laps, tables, and the ground. One had perched itself on Harry's face when he eventually fell into a light doze. So far none of them had yet to find a single useful thing on procreation using blood magic.

When the hour struck three minutes past four, a warbling cry erupted from somewhere in the library.

Harry jolted upright at the sound, the book on his face tumbling to the floor with a heavy thud. He blinked owlishly at Ron sitting across from him who looked like he'd heard a gunshot. His eyes wide and still dazed with sleep. Before either one of them could utter a sound of confusion though, Hermione came scurrying from among the rows of shelves. In two hands she held a hefty book that looked like it might crumble at the slightest breeze.

“I’ve found something!”

“Is it – ?”

Hermione cut Harry’s question off with a shake of her head. “No, sorry – I couldn’t find anything on the ritual you used.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped until she said, “But I think I’ve found out how you and Vol – er – Riddle... were able to travel through time!”

Hermione jostled her husband aside so she should sit next to him on the chair. It was just large enough to fit the two of them but it was a tight squeeze. Especially with the enormous book she ended up balancing on both their knees.

The creak of floorboards alerted them all to Riddle’s presence. He’d also sequestered himself away somewhere on the other side of the library. The sound of commotion must have alerted him to Hermione’s find.

Harry stiffened as he came round to settle himself on a cushioned stool near him.

Ignoring the ominous figure, Hermione began to read aloud.

“Woodland Albiflos, also known as ‘White-coloured Time’ or ‘The Travelling Blossom’. Much like the common wood anemone in appearance, this type of flora is extremely rare. Few cases have ever been recorded of time travel through this magical plant. However, evidence taken from the personal accounts of those who have managed it suggest it is entirely possible.

“Further study reveals that one who comes into direct contact can likely expect to disappear within a split moment. It appears that even fewer have managed to return to their own time. The flora take up to a year to regrow, and never within the same location. Once in bloom, they will remain so until found by a human. If untouched, they last for a month before dying and regrowing elsewhere in the world.

“Persons who come into contact with the Woodland Albiflos do not always travel to the same time period or location in the world. There is little mention that any travel into the future has occurred, or if it is even possible. Though it is not ruled out by some in the magical field of plant science.

“Each case has been unique in where they have ended up, and it is theorized that the location and time has some significance to the person or persons who travel through the power of the Woodland Albiflos. Either way, this suggests that the Woodland Albiflos might have a degree of sentience...”

Hermione trailed off with a focused frown before she gently closed the book. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes before readjusting his glasses.

“Alright.”

Hermione and Ron threw him a confused look.

“Now we know what,” Harry said. “I want to know why. Better yet, I want to know how to fix... this.” He waved his arm around as if gesturing to the whole situation.

“Um, well,” Hermione began biting her lip. “I’m not sure there’s anything we can really do other than try to find the flowers ourselves? But, I mean... it would take some time, Harry, and Ron and I can’t leave the kids for too long...”

Harry waved her off. “I’m not going to make you two do this, you’ve already done so much anyway, and this isn’t life or death... I’ll just take a few years off the Auror squad...”

“Harry,” Ron tried to reason but knew it was a lost battle before he began. Harry was like a Crup with a bone when he got an idea in his head, and known to be a bit obsessive.

Riddle stepped forward to lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Like it or not, my love, you’re stuck with us.”

Harry shrugged off the hand. “So you think.”

Riddle’s moved closer so that Harry could see the flash of steel in his eyes. But Harry stood firm, chest puffed out, and did not back down from the stare.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a wary look between themselves.

After a long moment passed and no one said or did anything, Ron cleared his throat. “Right, er, so why don’t we sleep on it, eh? No rush to make any decisions now.”

“You have a CHILD,” Riddle spit. “Never mind me, but you’d cast your own flesh and blood aside like this?”

Harry clenched his teeth. “That’s rich coming from you, considering only one of us here has committed patricide.”

Riddle’s eyes sharpened.

“Besides, I never said I’d be throwing her back to where she came from – just you!” Harry hissed. “She deserves a good home with someone who loves her. I’m sure there’s a million wizarding families that would be happy to look after her, give her a good life like any other child deserves.”

Riddle’s nostrils flared and his face paled with outraged fury. But before anything else could happen, Harry shoved past him to storm out of the library.

Hermione’s shoulders sagged and Ron let out an inaudible sigh at the close call.

“They’re like fire and gun power, those two,” Hermione muttered to her husband.

“Fire and what?” Ron said.

Riddle seemed to hear the comment, and he threw them a deathly glare before he too marched off.

Once they were quite alone, Ron turned to his wife. “Merlin’s beard, I can’t imagine when Evelyn gets into a temper, can you?”

“Best not to think about it just now,” Hermione answered with a nervous expression.

 

It wasn’t long after he’d stormed out of the library that Harry managed to calm down a little. Just having Riddle around him messed with his head and he couldn’t keep his cool. Everything he’d learned through years of Auror training went out the window when it came to the man and he had yet to understand why.

Hermione and Ron found him in the living room when they finally came down. But before they made to the Floo, Harry was asked if he was still coming to the Burrow that night.

Harry groaned. “Merlin, I completely forgot.”

“S’alright, mum’ll understand if we tell her – ” Ron began when Harry cut him off.

“No, no, I really should go. I haven’t seen them all since I got back. Besides, I’ve skipped out on too many dinners before I… disappeared.”

“But what about… you know?” Ron jerked his head up, indicating the floor above. “You-Know-Who?”

A loud scoff from Hermione. “Ronald, you can’t be serious. It’s been years and you still can’t even say his name!”

Ron shot her an affronted look and Harry ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more than usual. “I don’t know,” he said. 

“Why don’t you just leave him here?” Hermione suggested. “We can put wards in place. Maybe a few surveillance charms…”

A vehement shake of Harry’s head put a stop to the suggestion. “No, I’m not letting him out of my sight. And I’m certainly not leaving him alone for one second in my home.”

“Well…” Ron looked down and shuffled his feet. He couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if he tried. “S’pose if he doesn’t go bonkers and try hurt anyone…”

“I’d kill him before the thought even crossed his mind,” Harry vowed with perhaps a little too much vigour.

Ron cleared his throat and Hermione added in an uncertain tone: “We’ll keep vigilant.”

“What about Ginny though?” Ron said.

Harry let slip a quiet curse. “She knows what he looks like. Circe, how could I be so stupid?”

Ron placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mate, relax. I’m sure she’ll understand if we tell her beforehand.” He gave a pointed look to Hermione who gave an unconvincing nod.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “We’ll put a word in with her before you arrive.”

Despite how unlikely it was that she’d be okay with it, Harry’s shoulders relaxed a bit and he blew out a breath. “Thanks.”

Hermione smiled. “Right, we’d best be off now. See you later tonight, alright?”

“Cheers,” Ron said before he followed his wife into the fireplace and the two vanished in a burst of green flames.

 

* * *

 

Harry returned the library to find it thankfully empty of Riddle’s presence this time. Harry was just settling in to one of the armchairs again when a soft hiss made him jump. Harry cursed as he saw the large form of Nagini slithering out from one of the nearby shelves.

“ _Birth-giver has angered Master greatly_.”

Harry scoffed. “ _Good_.”

The snake did not respond as she moved to curl up on the carpet and Harry picked up one of the discarded books on the side table when a tiny knock interrupted him.

Harry glanced up to find a small pale face peeking through the crack in the library door. Evelyn’s dark hair was once more in a state resembling Harry’s but she stood in such a way that was eerily similar of Riddle. It was an erect and composed stance, though softened by her young age.

She peered in at him in an inquisitive and vulnerable way.

“ _Hatchling wishes to speak with you_ ,” Nagini hissed.

Harry opened his mouth to say something when Evelyn started over, bare feet softly padding across the carpet with haste.

Like an itch under his skin, Harry could tell something was wrong. It was an inkling similar to the one he sometimes got in the field of Auror work.

“Hey, everything alright?”

Evelyn absently picked at the arm of his chair as she knocked her knees against the side. She did not look at him but he knew she had something to say. So he tried again:

“What is it, Evelyn?”

“Can I come to dinner?” she asked in a quiet voice.

It took Harry a moment to figure out what she meant but when he did, both his eyebrows rose. “You heard about that, eh?”

A tiny trace of guilt laced the dainty features of her face but Harry just smiled. “Of course you can come,” he said.

Her answering smile was bright and pleased and tugged at Harry’s heart. A sheepish look stole across her face in the next moment though, and she leaned up on her toes to whisper in his ear.

“Daddy, can I sit you your lap?”

The harmless request surprised him. But it wasn't the reason why he found himself hesitating. Harry suddenly feared that the longer these two were in his home, the harder it would be to untangle himself from them again after they left. But the look in Evelyn's eyes was so earnest and innocent that he could hardly refuse her.

“Of course,” Harry said, and put aside his book as Evelyn scrambled onto his lap. She leaned back against his chest and said in that still scratchy whisper, “Can you read to me too?”

Although her literacy skills were above average from seeing her read the Daily Prophet over Riddle’s shoulder at times, he agreed.

Harry picked up one of the lighter reads on the table and opened to a page about the delicate art of mastering a pixie jinx.

As his voice filled the library, the little girl began sink back against him until her chest rose and fell with soft breaths. A thick fan of dark lashes rested against a still pale cheek and Harry put the book down to better observe. He took in her hair that was normally immaculately brushed, but could be unruly and chaotic when she woke from sleep. Harry noted the small beauty mark on her neck that reminded him of the one he had on his shoulder. Then there was the faint sprinkling of freckles across her button nose.

It didn’t feel real. It felt like some bizarre dream he could not wake from, and doubted he even wanted to in the first place.

Harry returned her to the bed in Regulus’ old room where he found Riddle perched in the armchair by the window. He stood as soon as he spotted them but Harry shook his head; he would put her to bed himself.

“You know, she’s never quite trusted me as much as she does you,” Riddle murmured as he watched Harry gently lay her down. “It seems we’re both alike in that respect.”

Harry eyed him and wondered if he should say what he thought. “I think she’s intimidated by you. Though I’m sure that doesn’t come as a surprise since you seem to normally enjoy that effect from people.”

An indecipherable expression stole across the other man’s face. There was no satisfaction or pleasure to be found though, so Harry took that as one small miracle.

“I'm afraid you’re wrong, Harry,” Riddle replied in a somber tone. “I find it regrettable, in fact. It’s true that I’ve always been the more… hands-off guardian between the two of us. I suppose I’ve been too hard on her for some things and still am, I’ve been told.”

Harry did not miss the pointed glance and said, “Let me guess, I told you that? In this fantasy life I was a part of in another dimension?”

Riddle’s mouth twisted like he’d eaten something sour. “Yes.”

Harry sighed and looked back at Evelyn. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Riddle being the more distant type of parent. That is if one could imagine the words ‘Tom Riddle’ and ‘parent’ in the same sentence together which didn’t involve the additional word of ‘murder’.

An echoing sigh had Harry turn to Riddle who gazed at him with an expression that could only be called wistful.

“What is it?” Harry said with no small amount of suspicion.

A shift of the blankets and Evelyn flung her stick-like arm to impatiently shove aside a lock of hair that had fallen over her face. Harry moved further away so as not to wake her, even though this narrowed the proximity between him and Riddle.

“You don’t know how hard this is for me,” Riddle said in a low voice. “To have you only mere inches away from me after a year thinking you gone. But then to not be able to hold you?” He leaned in closer and Harry found it difficult to move his feet under the penetrating gaze. “To touch you?” Riddle continued, and reached a hand to stroke Harry’s cheek. His eyes traced the path of his fingertips before zeroing in on Harry’s lips. “To kiss you?”

Harry swallowed heavily, his mouth feeling dry. There was a scary, uncertain moment where he thought he might shorten those few centimeters between them himself.

Then he remembered who this was, and what he had done, and Harry forced himself to pull back.

The resulting flash of disappointment across Riddle’s face did not go unnoticed.

“I’m not him, Riddle,” Harry said, though his heart beat a wild, uncertain rhythm in his chest. “I’m not that man you fell in love with. The one you married. He was reckless. Stupid too, clearly.”

“He is you, now,” Riddle countered.

Harry could not do this. Not now, not here. He needed more time.

“I have to go.” The words sounded strangled even to his own ears but Harry managed to finally leave the room.

Once the door to his own was slammed closed, Harry plastered himself against it and closed his eyes. A desperate, silent curse slipped past his lips.


	4. Hiraeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Hiraeth** [Welsh] (n.) A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

Evelyn was in better health when she woke from her nap that evening. She was also quite prepared to go to dinner at the Burrow.

“You excited to see Rose and Hugo again?” Harry asked her when she zipped past him on the landing upstairs. Although she pretended otherwise, he could tell she was.

“Is that Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron’s kids?” Evelyn asked as if she didn’t already know.

Harry’s mouth twitched. “Yes, it is.” The familial terms of ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ gave him pause though. Had Riddle told her to call them that to make it seem like she was part of Harry’s family? If that were the case, Harry wouldn’t say anything, for now. “Remember you met them the other day?”

Evelyn hummed but said nothing else. The way she fussed at her slightly shabby, old clothes and the ribbon in her hair spoke of her nervousness. Harry couldn’t help but find it endearing. She then scuttled back to Regulus’ room where, not twenty minutes later, there came a loud commotion promptly followed by raised voices. Harry was on the alert in an instant and rushed from his own room. In his haste, he nearly ran into Riddle when the man abruptly threw open the door to the room. His face was a storm of fury as a cacophony of shrieks started up from behind him.

“What’s going on!” Harry yelled over the noise.

“She’s a spoiled little brat!” Riddle spit before he shouldered past Harry to stomp away.

“Where are you going?” Harry called after him before he could disappear.

Riddle whirled round and through pinched lips, said, “I refuse to encourage such childish displays of bad temper.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply that, actually, she _was_ still a child, when the other man began to march down the stairs.

With an exasperated huff, Harry cautiously entered the room.

Several items floated in the air and the dresser had miraculously sprouted a pair of grasshopper legs. It seemed the bed had also been subject to wild magic, because it had blown up into a ball of bright blue fur. The flash of green coming from the dresser signaled Apep surfacing from his hiding spot.

“ _Very loud. Misstress is not pleassed_ ,” he hissed before retreating into the drawer again.

Harry ignored the state of the room to head into the bathroom where the slams and bangs originated. When he opened the door, he found Evelyn huddled in the far corner beside the toilet. A dismal and furious expression twisted her little face, and when she looked up at his arrival, Harry could see what might be the problem.

The entire left side of Evelyn’s head was now a vibrant purple while the right had knotted into a shape resembling a hippogriff’s nest.

Schooling his face into one of calm authority, Harry asked, “What’s the matter?”

Evelyn mumbled through pouted lips and when he asked her to repeat what she said, she suddenly shrieked, “I CAN’T GO BECAUSE MY HAIR IS STUPID!”

Harry blinked at the sheer volume of the words that came out of her lungs. “Er – I’m sure we can fix it…” he tried to reason. But angry children were not Harry’s area of expertise. He’d seen the Granger-Weasley kids angry all the time but he’d never had to try console them alone before. Harry felt even more out of depth when large fat tears began to roll down Evelyn’s ruddy cheeks.

“NOOOO!” she yelled. “I’M UGLY SO I CAN’T GO!!”

Harry winced. “It’s not that bad – ”

“I CAN’T GO, DADDY!” she howled. “MY DRESS IS UGLY AND EVERYONE WILL MAKE FUN OF ME!!”

“Evelyn enough!” Harry shouted over the noise. As soon as the words left his mouth, it snapped shut, and he feared he had done something terribly wrong. The realization dawned that he might have sounded just like his Uncle Vernon and the thought made him reel in horror.

Evelyn was not making any noise now though. In fact, the anger looked to have dissipated into silent sobs and tiny hiccups.

Harry sighed as a wretched feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. “Evelyn, I’m sorry I snapped at you. But we’re going to fix your hair, okay? I promise." He put a tentative hand on her little shoulder. “We’ll fire-call auntie Hermione and she’ll come and help.”

Evelyn sniffed and he asked again, “Is that okay?”

The hippogriff nest bobbed with her head as she uttered a miserable, “Y-yes-s.”

Although surprised by the request, Hermione was not unwilling to help when Harry confessed how lost he was with the whole situation. She came through the Floo only a moment later, a box of what she explained were Rose’s ‘hair things’ and two or three of her unworn dresses draped over her arm.

Trusting that she knew what she was doing, Harry got out of the way. He heard more than saw Hermione fixing Evelyn’s hair in the bathroom, teaching her a few tips and tricks while she did. Harry also listened when Hermione mentioned Rose and Hugo were ‘terribly excited to see you again’ and how pretty and kind they thought Evelyn was. So that by the time the two left the bedroom, a distinctly pleased smile stretched across Evelyn’s mouth. Dressed in one of Rose’s lacy white dresses and with her cropped head of raven hair in pristine shape once more, Evelyn looked doll-like.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked when she descended the stairs. Riddle had been brooding somewhere in the living room waiting for them.

Evelyn bobbed her head and Apep hissed at her from around her wrist. “ _I am more beautiful than the jewelry this time_.”

Sea-foam eyes widened and Evelyn said, “Daddy, wait, I forgot something!” before she raced upstairs, her coltish legs almost tripping over themselves in her haste.

Harry looked to Hermione who smiled reassuringly.

“Disaster averted?”

Hermione laughed. “She’s fine.”

Harry let out a sigh that earned him a curious look. “What?” he said.

“Nothing, it’s just…” Hermione seemed to struggle for words before she continued, “Harry, you’re a good father. Everyone knew you would be, you know. And I know we can’t be certain that… well, of anything going on right now, but you’re doing well.”

Harry huffed and rubbed the back of his neck; it certainly didn’t feel like it. He couldn’t help feel a pang of longing though that this is what it could have been like. To have a child. Even with the tantrums and difficult bits, he felt like a part of him that was previously missing was now... found.

“Do you remember how Ron was with Rose when she was a baby?”

Harry couldn’t help the bark of laughter at the memory. “And he nearly set her on fire, you mean?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Circe, I almost killed him that day,” she muttered but carried on. “Still could actually. But my point is that he didn’t. He still regrets that, but I trust him with every fiber of my being and so do Rose and Hugo.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Just like how Evelyn trusts you. You just have to learn that sometimes parenting is simply going in blind and hoping your child doesn’t get set on fire. It’s practically all you can really do.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. But we’d better get going soon. I think Molly said she’d be serving dinner early so the kids don’t stay up too late like last time.”

Harry sympathized with her grimace at the threat of cranky Granger-Weasley children. And speaking of…

Evelyn came trundling down the stairs again. Harry could only assume she retrieved what she wanted because she looked ready to face anything now.

 

* * *

 

“Harry! I’m so glad you came, everyone’s been so eager to see you – Though I’m sorry, dear, but Percy and Audrey said they’d be held back at work.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said. “I got an Owl from him this morning.”

“Oh good, that’s good,” she said, patting his arm. “But George is here! So is Bill and Charlie. Bill!”

“Right here, mum,” Bill said as came up behind her to wrap Harry in a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Harry. Fleur would be here too but she took the kids to visit her parents in Paris.”

“It’s fine, seriously,” Harry said.

“Harry! Bloody well thought you’d been topped off for good this ti – Ow!” Came George’s voice, cut off by what must have been a well-aimed hit from Angelina.

Harry laughed as he greeted them too. “Where’s Fred and Roxanne?”

“Oh, Freddie’s babysitting her tonight,” Angelina said.

“Yeah, thought we’d take it easy on the rest of the family if they stayed home for this one,” George added.

“They’re not so bad,” Harry grinned.

“Oh yes, they are,” Angelina said. “They made you cards though. I’ll get them out of my purse just now.”

“Brilliant.”

As the adults talked, Hugo had quickly discovered he was not fond of Evelyn’s reptilian friend. And although Rose was sheepish at first, she eventually grew comfortable around what was explained to be ‘only a small, harmless garden snake’.

“ _I am a fearsome prince and will not be spoken to like this_ ,” Apep argued. Though no one save Harry and his house guests understood him.

Rose also didn’t seem to want to look like she was too intimidated when Evelyn was so comfortable having a snake companion. “My mummy says we’re going to get our companions when we go to Hogwarts,” she said, petting Apep’s flat head with a finger. Though it sounded more like she was jabbing it instead, going by the soft, disgruntled hisses from the snake.

“Really? What are you going to get? My papa and daddy got me Apep,” Evelyn said, stroking her snake’s head in a gentler manner.

“My mummy has a cat called Crookshanks. My dad used to have a rat called Scabbers but then they found out he was actually a bad man and he ran away,” Rose explained.

It was only when the children went off to play that Harry noticed when Ginny arrived with Luna. Their three-month-old sat on Luna's hip, sucking on a dummy as he observed everything around him with wide-eyed curiousity. Harry made eye contact with Ginny and saw the moment her eyes flickered to the man standing beside him. Every line in her body visibly stiffened. Harry took a tentative step forward in hopes of offering his own explanation when Evelyn spoke and an astonished silence swept through the room.

Harry’s eyes snapped to Evelyn and realized with a sickening jolt that what he’d heard her say was not in English.

“What was that?” He heard someone say along with the tentative whisper of, “Was that…?”

Harry happened to glanced back at Ginny again to see that the colour had drained from her face. Luna touched her gently on the arm with a murmured question before Ginny looked away again and excused herself. Harry’s shoulders fell with the hope that he would get a chance to explain everything to her himself. Turning back to the room, Harry’s heart rate picked up a panicked rhythm. But before he could say anything, Riddle spoke up beside him.

“She’s a Parselmouth,” he explained in an off-handed manner. “Just as I am. A rare gift, but not unheard of for those related to Salazar Slytherin’s bloodline.”

“A Slytherin, eh?” George said. “Think that’s the first we’ve had in our home.” He slapped Riddle on the back and Harry smothered a hysterical bubble of laughter at Riddle’s pinched expression. “Welcome to the humble Weasley abode! Us Gryffindors – pardon me, _and Ravenclaw_ – are happy to have such a rare and unique guest.”

“A pleasure to be here,” Riddle said through tight lips.

The room returned to its usual volume and relief cascaded through Harry at the narrow escape from disaster.

 

* * *

 

When the time to eat arrived, it was clear Hugo had inherited his father’s table manners. Harry could see his enemy’s eye twitch with every smack of lips and food sprayed during a passionate retelling of what happened at primary school that day.

Rose, meanwhile, was loud and boisterous compared to Evelyn who seemed to be quietly enjoying herself by the way her eyes sparkled with life, eagerly drinking in the sight of so much activity, people, and food. Occasionally she whispered into Rose’s ear which made the other girl roar with laughter before slapping a freckled hand over her mouth like it was a secret joke between them. A sly, mischievous grin spread across Evelyn’s lips and she would point at Hugo before Rose did something like put a pea on his mashed potato when he wasn’t looking. For some reason, this was a cause for great hilarity between the two girls.

Mrs Weasley, of course, felt it her personal duty to pile as much food onto Harry and his house guests' plates as she could. Evelyn made sure her pleasure with the food was known, and her irresistible charm garnered great favour with the Weasley matriarch, resulting in a lot of cooing and pinched cheeks.

During the whole night, Harry made sure to watch his more silent guest from the corner of his eye. Unable to stop himself finding amusement in the other man’s suffering from being in the presence of so many Weasleys and non-Slytherins.

“So how is it you’re staying with Harry?” Mrs Weasley asked Riddle at one point during the meal.

Alarm shot through Harry at what Riddle might say, and hastily went to answer himself: “Witness protection thing. Can’t really say much about it, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh! Of course. Goodness, I hope everything’s alright.”

“The case will take some time but we’re hoping Mr Riddle will eventually get back home,” Harry said rather pointedly.

Riddle shot him a brief glare and Evelyn frowned. “But you’re coming too, right, daddy?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he almost choked on his food while Riddle hid a smug smirk behind his glass of wine.

“Daddy?” George repeated.

Harry let out a sheepish laugh. “S-she’s just joking.”

Evelyn looked to Riddle with wide, confused eyes. But the man only gave a minute shake of his head and she fell into sulky silence.

Harry inwardly scolded himself for not thinking to tell her not to call him that. Or about the Parseltongue. He also knew that bastard Riddle might have known and just wanted to watch Harry sweat.

“Ginny, dear, you’re being awfully quiet. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“I’m fine, mum,” Ginny said with a tight smile. Mrs Weasley pursed her lips but left it alone.

“Say, that’s a fine watch you've got there,” Charlie spoke up and Harry saw he was talking to Evelyn. “Looks a lot like the one my mum gave Harry.”

Evelyn put up a guarded expression while Mrs Weasley brightened. “Oh! Look, Arthur, it is!” she said. “You know, that used to be my own father’s watch before I gave it to Harry.”

Evelyn straightened as pride replaced her initial wariness. “He gave it to me.”

Harry frowned. Had she taken that from his room at some point without him knowing?

Mrs Weasley smiled warmly. “Then it seems it’s been finally passed down again.”

Evelyn chewed on a thought for a moment before saying, “Like a hair loom?”

“What’s a hair broom?” Hugo asked.

A ripple of laughter sounded around the table.

“An heirloom, stupid,” Rose said and Hermione tutted before wiping away a bit of gravy from the corner of Hugo’s mouth.

“What’s that, mummy?” Hugo asked.

“It’s something that’s been passed down through generations in a family.”

“Do we have any… air… air – ?”

Hermione smiled. “Well, my parents have a photo album we’ve kept around since the thirties.”

“Yeah, we got loads I think,” Ron added.

“What about you, Tom?” Bill asked.

Harry stiffened, on edge about what his guest might say this time.

“There are a few… items I’ve managed to save,” Riddle answered mysteriously. Harry shared worried looks with Hermione and Ron. Ginny also seemed to glean what he referred to; her gaze dropped to her plate, a haunted look shadowing her expression.

In fact, Harry was positive one of these items was the ring he still wore on his finger.

“Really?” Harry asked. “I’d have thought that kind of thing was too sentimental for you.”

There was an awkward cough as all eyes turned on the two of them. Riddle said nothing but simply drained the rest of his glass before turning to fix his penetrating gaze on Harry. But just when the silence started to become uncomfortable, he spoke.

“Doubt that the sun doth move, Harry, but never doubt I love.”

Harry's breath caught in his throat as soon as the words left the other man’s mouth.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mrs Weasley said, and clasped her hands together in delight.

Some else said, “Why can’t YOU be that romantic?” Which must have been Angelina.

But Harry was still transfixed by the words and the man beside him. His hand traced the non-existent ring on his finger and his heart hammered in his throat. He hadn't even told Hermione and Ron about it – He didn’t know why he’d kept it a secret from them. But in that moment, Harry thought he might understand; it felt like the last nail in the coffin. Now Harry found he could hardly tear his gaze away from Riddle.

Charlie cleared his throat. “Er – Well, us Weasleys are a sentimental bunch, aren’t we,” he said to diffuse the sudden tension.

Mr Weasley nodded. “We don’t like to throw away much in this family. If it still works, there’s no reason to throw it out.”

“That’s right,” Mrs Weasley said. “In fact, there’s a whole trunk or two upstairs. The children can go up after dinner and see if there’s anything interesting.”

The kids cheered and they continued dinner in a pleasant mood. Until at one point during the meal someone brought up the pranks Fred and George used to get up to in Hogwarts. It was one of those moments that started off bittersweet until it turned wistful. When it inevitably did, Harry’s eyes averted and his finger tapped a silent, restless rhythm on his knee until it was gently covered by Riddle’s hand. Startled, Harry glanced up to find the other man watching him from the corner of his eye. Taken aback by the slightest trace of sympathy he saw in those sapphire depths, Harry also felt instantly apprehensive of it too.

He snatched his hand away, letting Riddle’s fall to his side again, and tried to still his wildly thumping heart before he returned to his dessert.

 

* * *

 

It seemed Harry and his closest friends were not the only ones keeping a close eye on Riddle that night. Ginny’s gaze never seemed to stray too long from the man, wary and suspicious. After the meal ended, everyone split up to either clear up or sit in the living room to chat. Or if you were a child, you’d have raced up the stairs to explore the Weasley trunks in the attic.

Harry eyed Ginny hopefully and made to go over and talk to her when Charlie nudged him in the side as he passed. When Harry looked up, he said, “I think he’s sweet on you.”

Harry felt himself flush to the tips of his ears and Charlie laughed.

“It would make a hell of a story, how you two met, wouldn’t it?" Charlie said. "You know, love under Auror cover…”

Harry also let out a laugh, albeit of the more nervous variety. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, why not? You said yourself that you’ve almost cracked the case. After that why don’t you just see where it goes? You two’ve definitely got some… chemistry.”

Harry almost choked and Charlie chuckled again, patting his back with large calloused hands. “I mean, don’t look now but he’s positively murderous that I’m even talking to you.”

Harry’s eyes widened. ‘Riddle’ and ‘murder’ were definitely nothing to joke about. Especially considering how closely the two were linked already. But a quick glance told him it was true: Riddle had an incredibly steady gaze on the two of them, sculpted face maintaining a completely blank expression.

Harry swallowed and gave Charlie a tight smile. “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he said. Then to try and not-so-subtly steer the conversation from such a , he asked, “And how’s, uh… Kevin?”

“Klaus,” Charlie corrected with a shy smile. “And yeah, it’s alright.”

Harry eyed the slight pink tinge on his freckled cheeks and smirked. “Looks like it.” Charlie gently shoved him again and Harry snorted. “Look, I’m going to go check on Evelyn,” he said. “She’s, er, been a bit sick today.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose. “Looking after his kid too?” A wolfish grin spread across his mouth. “Should we be expecting a wedding invitation soon?”

Harry blushed again and waved him off as he left. The soft chuckle followed him as he went up to see if Evelyn wasn’t saying or doing anything that might cause suspicion.

 

Upon seeing the sheer chaos the children had left in the attic, Harry sighed. But when he saw Hugo standing between the two girls, wearing a feathered hat and a floral-patterned dress far too big for him - and for all the world to be totally happy about it - Harry had to settle for shaking his head as well.

“Hi, Uncle Harry!” Rose said with a honey sweet smile.

“I see you girls have made Hugo into your personal guinea pig.”

“He wanted to,” Evelyn insisted. She too wore a far more convincing expression of innocence, but Harry wasn't buying it. The mess was nothing a few Reparo’s couldn’t solve though, so he did just that before gesturing to Evelyn.

“Right. Evelyn, listen, we’re going to be leaving soon. Are you ready?”

“But Rose was going to show me her toys!”

“She can bring them next time she visits. Ridd – Your, uh… father and I will wait downstairs. Five minutes, okay?”

Evelyn looked like she wanted to pout but nodded her head instead. “Okay.”

Harry trundled downstairs again and almost collided with Ginny at the bottom.

“Oh. Hi, Harry,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ginny – ”

“That’s really him, isn’t it,” she said, cutting off what would have been a poor attempt to breach the subject gently anyway.

Harry nodded and glanced over to the sitting room where Riddle seemed engaged in a painfully polite conversation with Mr Weasley. Riddle was an excellent actor though, and his discomfort didn’t seem apparent to anyone but Harry.

“Look, I don’t think he’s going to try anything. We’re going to go in a few minutes anyway.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I know, sorry. It’s hard to explain it, but I don’t think he’s the same sixteen-year-old we met in the diary. He’s not Voldemort and he isn’t a piece of his soul either. He’s… more human. I think.”

Ginny looked at him strangely.

“What?”

“Ron said the girl is really his.”

“Yeah, we think so.”

“And yours?”

Harry froze. “Did he – ?”

Ginny snorted. “No. But I mean, it’s rather obvious just by looking at her, isn’t it?”

Harry sighed and ducked his head. “I don’t know what to do, Gin. I’m trying not to think too much about it but…”

She softened, warm brown eyes relaxing a little from their previous hostility. “Harry, I get it, it’s okay. I mean, I’ll never understand how you could be with him, but – ”

Harry interjected with a derisive, “That makes two of us, then.”

“Harry, I want you to be happy,” she continued. “Everyone does and that’s all we want for you. We’ve been through enough during the war, and deserve some peace of mind in our lives. And somehow, miraculously, you have a family. It’s mad but isn’t that what you wanted?”

Harry didn’t respond but he didn’t need to; Ginny was right. It was all he ever wanted. To settle down with someone he loved and have children together. To have a family of his own. But with Tom Riddle? It was too impossible. Not to mention wrong and too much of an utterly bizarre concept.

Wasn’t it?

The thud of several tiny feet on the stairs signaled the arrival of the children. With a quick goodbye to everyone, Harry headed for the Floo when Evelyn grabbed hold of his hand. Harry looked down and sighed.

“Evelyn, where’s Apep?” 

 

* * *

 

Evelyn practically went limp the moment Riddle picked her up after stepping through the fireplace. With skinny arms clasped round his neck, she had her head rested against his shoulder as he took her upstairs. Harry watched them go up before he went and poured himself a hard drink. Something to keep busy with and calm his nerves while his head still buzzed with the evening’s events. After everything finally seemed quiet upstairs though, Harry finally went up himself. But when he got to the top of the stairs, he froze.

A deep, melodic voice drifted through the crack of Regulus’ old bedroom door. Although the words were difficult to hear, the tune was audible. Harry had to take a moment to process the fact of who was singing. And although stranger things have happened, this may have gone far beyond that.

Tom Marvolo Riddle -  _Voldemort -_ was singing. In his house.

Before Harry could even think too much about it, his feet had quietly crept as close to the door as he dared to listen.

Riddle’s voice had begun to peter off into a soothing hum before going silent altogether. Harry wondered if Evelyn had drifted off when a small, fragile voice spoke.

“Papa?”

It sounded so tired and weak for what seemed like a usually lively little girl.

A low hum let her know she was being heard.

“How come daddy doesn’t love you anymore?”

A long beat of silence followed the question and Harry felt his breath still.

“What makes you think that?” Riddle asked. It sounded mildly curious, as if he were only humouring her about something he didn’t believe himself.

There was a small, thoughtful noise like she were trying to figure out how to put her thoughts properly. “Because he… he doesn’t kiss you and stuff anymore and…” She uttered another frustrated little noise as she tried to explain. “Also he – he doesn’t hug you or say it every morning like he used to…” She drifted off until another cracked, wobbly question left her mouth: “Does he still love me too?”

It was such a vulnerable, sincere question that it almost broke Harry’s heart to hear it.

Another long silence descended in the room until a small sigh followed by a rustle of fabric broke it.

“What a ridiculous thing to ask. Of course he does,” Riddle said in a matter-of-fact way. “We simply have to remind him because he’s forgotten.”

There was a short pause before Riddle asked, “Will you do it? Are you going to help him remember us?”

There was no audible reply but she must have answered because there was another rustle of fabric which signaled Riddle standing up. There was the single word: “Good.” Before the steady tread of feet could be heard on the carpet. Harry moved away as soon as he heard them near the door and with a hasty few steps, he was back in his own room. With the door shut and locked, he heard Riddle’s footsteps pass through the corridor. Possibly headed to the library again.

When Harry’s eyes adjusted to the gloom of his room, his gaze fell on the old clothes he’d been wearing in the forest. They were stuffed on top of his closet, still dirty from the woods. He sighed and thought of the Pensieve that Riddle had been pouring memories into the first day and a half he’d been here.

Harry ground his teeth in frustration. He knew he had to at least take a look or the questions would eat him up inside. Maybe he could figure out the mystery of why they were together if he saw… Well, them. Together.

Harry took a deep breath and opened his door before peering out to see if it was truly clear of his old enemy. The landing was completely deserted and the lights in Regulus’ room turned off. So he slid out the open door and made his way to the room where the Black family Pensieve was kept.

 

The stone basin sat in the middle of the room like an omen. Harry approached with grim determination and gripped the sides with white knuckles. He could easily back out now and forget the whole thing. But he needed to know. There were too many questions that needed answers. Above all, he had to know _how_ it was possible. And how it was with _that_ man, of all the people in the world.

Harry sucked in a breath and steeled himself before plunging into the murky depths of a memory.

This time he was in a living room. Sparsely furnished with old but cheap wooden furniture. There was a ratty doll laying on the floor among building blocks and other home-made toys. Harry instantly spotted himself sitting in an armchair. A cheery little fire crackled in the grate beside him and a huge grin stretched his face as he pulled a child of about two years onto his lap.

“Hello, pumpkin,” he cooed. “Do you know how to say pumpkin? What about papa?”

“ _Where papa?_ ”

“That’s a start, I suppose,” Harry said with a laugh and planted a kiss on the top of her head covered in soft tufts of raven hair. She let out a squeal of delight.

It felt unnerving now, to see himself so comfortable with a child speaking Parseltongue. Although not as uncomfortable as Harry would have thought. After all, he would have been the same when he was that age. The thought was interrupted though when a figure passed him in the doorway to hand his memory-self a cup of tea. It was Riddle, of course. As handsome as ever, but with a distinct air of fatigue about him. Though there was nothing but fondness in the tiny smile he gave Harry and the child before leaning down and meeting Harry with a peck on the lips.

“Where’ve you been?” Harry asked as Riddle briefly stroked Evelyn’s head of soft black hair.

“Papa!” Evelyn stated.

“There we go! Clever girl.” Harry grinned and placed her on the ground again when the restless wriggling increased.

“I was late working in the office,” Riddle said as he took a seat in the other chair with his own cup of tea. “And I have a suspicion that they might put me in charge of resources next week.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “A promotion? Already?” he asked, though a pleased smile graced his lips. “That’s wonderful.”

Riddle hummed and didn’t answer to drink his tea and stare into the fire. “I told you, didn’t I?” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be living like kings soon enough.”

Harry huffed a tiny breath of laughter and glanced to Evelyn playing with her doll on the floor. “And princesses.”

It had been a while since Harry felt or looked that happy and another longing pang stabbed him in the chest. Ginny had been right; it was the picture of all he had ever wanted. Right there, dangling in front of him like some forbidden fruit. Something too good to be true.

But Merlin help him, how could it have happened? How was it possible that he’d have gone that far with someone he knew had done unspeakably horrible things?

Harry threw himself out of the memory, burning with more questions and frustration than before. The nagging urge at the back of his mind propelled him to his room again where he raced to his closet. He pulled down the clothing from the night he arrived in the forest and searched through it again.

There was nothing but a worn ticket stub and a beaten-up old leather wallet with hardly anything inside. Harry took out the tiny square of paper in one of the folds and stared at it. A tiny crackle of magic thrummed through his fingertips when he held it. Harry whipped out his wand and cast an Engorgio. The piece of paper instantly expanded into a normal parchment size.

Harry carefully unfolded it and on the page was a crudely drawn picture of three stick figures. One with spiky black hair, green eyes, and glasses. The other with smoother, wavy hair and dark eyes. Between the two stood a smaller stick figure. A girl with cropped black hair and wearing a little blue dress. The three of them held hands in an open field while the image moved. They smiled as the grass swayed in an invisible breeze. Small ‘m’ shaped birds and large, misshapen butterflies fluttered about. But every now and then the hair of the stick figure in glasses brushed away from its face. And when it did, a tiny, lightning bolt shaped scar revealed itself, etched there on its forehead.

Harry felt his breath leave him like a punch to the gut. His hand flew to his mouth and the longer he gazed at the picture, his eyes began to prickle with the heat of tears.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke tired the next morning after a restless night. The first sound he could hear was a child’s babble from downstairs. Underlying that was the clatter of pots and pans signaling that someone was making breakfast. Harry had a difficult time imagining it could be Riddle, so he decided he’d have to investigate himself.

Harry took his time before sliding out of bed though, and cast a wary glance at the folded parchment on his bedside table.

He was not going to think about that today.

After tugging on a robe, Harry slouched downstairs and toward the smell of bacon and toast. When he entered the kitchen, he noted his initial suspicion was... half-correct. A spatula prodded at a frying pan sizzling on the stove, but it was without a cook as Riddle sipped on his cup of coffee at the end of the table. It was a feat of magic even Harry had to admit was quite impressive. And also worrying.

Riddle was reading the newspaper again. Harry wondered if he were trying to catch up on everything he missed during the time leap. But the question was quickly forgotten as soon as Evelyn spotted him and called out a cheery “Good morning” which Riddle echoed in a more subdued tone.

Harry mumbled his own wary greeting as he shuffled to take a seat at the table. He cast a dubious glance at the stove and said, “I can’t imagine what Dark magic taught you how to do that.”

Riddle glanced up from his paper with a false expression of innocence. “I’ll have you know that the knowledge cost only a small sum of practiced manners and charm.”

Harry huffed his disbelief at that when a steaming cup floated into view and landed on the table in front of him. Harry stared at it with open disbelief. But then Riddle gave him a look which made Harry feel silly for wondering. The other man wouldn’t seriously try to murder him in front of their supposed daughter, would he?

Harry decided to take the chance and took a tentative sip. When he did, he had to suppress the loud groan of pleasure that threatened to spill from his lips.

It was perfect.

And from the look Riddle was giving him, he knew damn well that it was too. It wasn’t too sugary like Ron’s, or too milky like Hermione made it. Neither was it weak like the cups Harry tended to brew, which only happened when he didn’t leave the bag in long enough.

“We need to go to the store,” Riddle announced as Harry greedily gulped down his tea. “Evelyn has a rather… particular taste, and the house seems to be only stocked for one.”

Harry froze as a wave of guilt washed through him. He should have been paying more attention; It was unlike him not to think of others. He supposed there had been so much going on that he wasn’t thinking of anything as long-term. He’d thought his guests would have been long gone by now. It was… strange coming to terms with the fact he was not living alone anymore. At least for the time being.

“Right,” Harry said, putting down his empty cup on the table. “We’ll go straight after breakfast.”

“Perfect,” Riddle replied with a polite smile.

Evelyn uttered a small cheer and Harry’s mouth ticked upward at her genuine enthusiasm.

 

* * *

 

Harry decided to take them to the local store down from where he lived. It was smaller than most grocery stores, but usually had everything Harry needed. Another perk was that it didn’t have many people in it, which meant he mostly went unnoticed. He could just imagine the outrageous things The Daily Prophet would have to say about him if they saw him now - ‘Harry Potter shacks up with a widower’ or ‘Mysterious single father – Saviour’s dream match?’. The headlines would practically write themselves.

The store was located in a small wizarding area just down the road from Grimmauld Place. To reach it, one had to travel through the park toward two twisting trees which only untangled themselves if you knew where to tap three times with your wand.

Once they passed through, it took them longer than Harry would have liked to get to the store. The reason being that Evelyn had to stop and look at everything that was different from, or better than, her own world. It also seemed necessary to stop into at least one clothing shop to get her some much-needed new clothes.

After that, they arrived in the little grocery store and Harry told Evelyn she could get any food or sweets she wanted. This had her racing off in an instant toward the sweets aisle and Riddle made a grumbling remark about it under his breath.

Unfortunately, this left Harry alone with Riddle.

“Er – ” Harry began and Riddle raised a brow. Harry made a useless arm gesture and said, “You can also, you know, get what you need. I’ll just, um, be over there…”

He didn’t exactly know where ‘there’ would be, but hoped the other man could find out for himself.

 

Harry ended up in an aisle of sauces, canned vegetables, and soup. He examined a bag of bright pink and sparkly pasta that seemed to change shape with the type of sauce you put on it. He wondered if Evelyn might like it.

“Hello.”

Harry’s head jerked up at the unfamiliar voice and had to force his hand to abort the movement toward his wand. A tall man with chestnut brown hair and tanned skin stood a few steps away. He flashed a pearly white smile at Harry that crinkled his clear, bright blue eyes.

“Uh, hi,” Harry replied lamely.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Harry Potter, would you?”

Harry tensed and gave a clipped response. “Yeah, I am.”

The man shifted closer. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ve seen you in here a few times before and wondered who such a mysterious man could be.” The mischievous smirk accompanying his last statement made Harry’s cheeks flush with heat as he let out an awkward laugh.

“It’s alright.”

The man offered his hand that wasn’t holding onto his shopping basket. “I’m Mordred, by the way.”

Harry took the hand which felt large and warm in his own. “I’d introduce myself but I don’t have to do much of that lately.”

Mordred gave a low laugh. “I don’t suppose you do.”

A brief moment passed where Harry considered the idea of pursuing this. He’s had a few relationships in the past but they’d never panned out well. They’d either been after his fame, didn’t want it at all, or simply expected too much. Wanting something that he couldn’t give them. This man seemed nice though. Maybe…

A shelf beside Harry exploded with items that cascaded onto the floor and in the next second, his wand was in his hand.

Mordred stared at the mess between them and said, “That’s odd.”

Before Harry could even look round for what might have caused the incident, someone had sidled up to him from behind. Harry’s eyes widened when he saw who it was. “T – Riddle?”

The man in question did not look at him as he directly addressed the man in front of them. “I’d move along if I were you,” he said coolly.

Mordred’s eyebrow rose, clearly affronted. “And you are?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I happen to be his husband,” Riddle replied. He then wrapped his arm round Harry’s waist which caused Harry to sputter and try push the other man away.

“Is that right?” Mordred said with a disbelieving smirk. “Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe.”

“Whether you believe it or not is not my concern,” Riddle said through clenched teeth. His expression began to take on that murderous look Harry was all too familiar with. “I’m only saying that it would benefit your wellbeing if you left. Now.”

“Well, I don’t see a ring,” Mordred said. “On either of you, for that matter.”

Riddle took a menacing step forward and Harry roughly tugged him back by his arm.

“Sorry! He’s just… He’s joking,” Harry said with forced joviality. But the look on Riddle’s face belied his words, making it seem like he was doing anything but making a joke. The other man seemed to catch onto it too, so Harry tried again. “He’s actually my cousin, and obviously doesn’t know how to talk to strangers. Flattered by the – erm – interest, though, but I’ll have to pass, thanks.” Harry cringed at his own babbling and the other man still didn’t look convinced.

“Right,” Mordred said, adjusting his grip on his basket. “Pity. We could have had a great time, you and I.” He aimed a wink at Harry who had to tighten his grip on Riddle when he felt him tense up again. But once Mordred had finally left the aisle, Harry rounded on Riddle and gave him a not-so-gentle shove.

“You complete _prick_.”

The icy mask remained which annoyed and worried Harry in equal parts. They should probably get to the checkouts before Riddle committed any murders. A possibility which, in Harry’s vast experience, was highly likely. With a quick Reparo on the items on the floor, Harry led them to the front of the store and the checkout counters.

As they waited in line, Riddle finally spoke up. “You certainly attract a type,” he commented drily.

“Oh yeah?” Harry said as he placed items on the counter. “Would that be dickheads, by any chance?”

The meaning behind his words were not lost, though Riddle did not respond. Instead they both fell back into stony silence.

Evelyn eventually joined them, her tiny arms laden with so many sweets that she left a trail of them behind her. Harry was surprised by the effect she had on the other man though. How the icy mask finally cracked when Riddle let out an exasperated sigh.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they returned to Grimmauld Place, Evelyn scurried off with her newly acquired treasures. Meanwhile Harry busied himself with levitating all the groceries into their proper place. He did not need to look at Riddle to know he was watching him closely.

“You’re upset.”

“Very observant of you,” Harry bit out.

Riddle’s face twisted into a scowl. “I didn’t like him touching you.”

“Well, you don’t get to have an opinion on that!” Harry fired back. “You can’t DO that, Tom. You can’t just go around threatening people.”

Something in the other man’s face shifted and Harry froze, realizing that he’d called him by his first name. It had felt so natural, it just slipped out…

“I’ve never liked people looking at you like that, and I never will,” Riddle said calmly and took a step closer to Harry. “ _You’re mine_ ,” he hissed.

An involuntary shiver ran up Harry’s spine. “No, I’m not,” he said. “I’m not your husband, and you’re not mine. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Riddle grabbed his arm and turned Harry to face him. His face was so close, his eyes right there; intense and blue and boring right into him. “You said ‘I do’ once before. It can happen again.”

Harry tried to tug himself out of the hold with no luck. Riddle’s hand reached up to touch Harry's face but the latter flinched away and it dropped. “You look younger,” Riddle murmured, undeterred by the rejection of his touch. “You must remember how good it felt. You and I, together.”

The denial and the fight began to trickle out of him. Harry collapsed onto the chair and buried his face in his hand. “You don’t know anything about me,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“I know everything about you. I know too much that it hurts,” Tom said, and took step forward. Harry looked up, a protest ready on his lips, but the expression on Tom’s face made him pause and he swallowed.

“I know when you’re uncomfortable, or angry, or amused. I know things about your friends; I even know the names of their… extensive list of family members. I know when you don’t like someone without even saying a word.” He brushed a finger against Harry’s cheek, and this time he did not flinch away but shivered. “I’m so attuned to you, Harry, that it overwhelms and awes me all at once. I know what makes you laugh, and how to make you smile. I know when you need space and quiet. I know what your favourite foods are, and your preferred colour. That you’re obsessed with that ridiculous sport Quidditch, and that you still hurt. Over you godfather. Your parents. The people you’ve lost… and that you still dream about them.”

Harry stared, wide eyed and mouth parted. It felt like all his breath had left him the more Riddle spoke. He’d never felt so laid-bare and vulnerable in a long time.

“And I know about the tremendous guilt you feel for the people who lost their lives in the war.” A thumb wiped away a stray tear Harry’s hadn’t known he’d shed. He swallowed hard and this time felt the tear when it fell to join the other.

“How…?” Harry said and Merlin, his voice was a wreck too. He couldn’t even finish the question, but then it didn’t seem like he needed to because, somehow, Riddle knew.

“You know how,” the other man replied softly. “Because you’re mine, and I’m yours. We chose each other, Harry, no matter how impossible you may think it is.”

Harry bit his lip and could not say anything more. Riddle sat next to him and Harry didn’t protest this time. Instead he welcomed the weight of someone so close. Of the forehead which leaned against his temple.

“I don’t know why but…” Harry began in a tentative voice. “Ever since I came back I’ve felt like… I don’t know. Like something was missing.”

“The body remembers,” Tom murmured against his temple. “Even when the mind forgets.”

Harry sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes.

“I’ve missed you.”

The fragile whisper made Harry’s breath catch.

“I’ve missed the irritating way you steal the blankets at night. But I always let you, because we both know what it feels like to be cold and alone. You sleep like a starfish but sometimes you’ll curl up into yourself when you’re having a bad dream. Sometimes you never sleep at all, because not sleeping is better than dreaming. But I don’t mind, because then I could keep you company.”

The exposed feeling increased; it was as if Harry unraveled with every word Tom spoke. The core of him in plain view of the other man all along.

“You hated the way I put everything back before you used it. I believe you used to call me a ‘serial cleaner-upper’.”

Harry choked out a watery laugh. He couldn’t help thinking how it sounded exactly like something he would say.

“But the strangest of all is how I miss fighting with you.” Tom’s hand had now moved to thread long fingers into Harry's hair. “And how we could also come to an agreement when the issue was important enough.”

Harry found himself staring into blue eyes, searching desperately for the memories he couldn’t find within himself.

Then Tom leaned forward and Harry didn’t pull away. Soft lips brushed his own, hot breath ghosting against his lips as if asking permission. Harry tilted his chin in answer and they connected in a heated kiss. It was the kind Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to get out his mind for a long time afterwards. Not only because it was possibly the best kiss he’d ever experienced. But because it was so full of something overwhelming – like years’ worth of love and devotion poured into it. So much that it threatened to drown Harry completely.

So Harry’s fingers knotted themselves into Tom’s hair as well, to anchor himself as he let the tide pull him under.


	5. Damnatio Memoriae

That night Harry twisted and turned in his sheets. Though he slept, he was having another dream and it was unlike the usual ones about the war.

This time it was about Tom Riddle.

Harry’s mouth was moving, face flushed and eyes blazing as he yelled at the top of his lungs while Tom stood his ground a few feet from him, his own mouth moving in much the same way. The two of them were explosive with anger, if the fact the whole house being in a state of destruction did not already prove it. But what caught Harry’s attention was the object he brandished at the other man. An eerily familiar black leather bound journal.

Tom’s diary.

It was unclear what Harry was saying though it must have had something to do with the horcrux within the diary. It was only when the yelling abruptly ceased and Tom’s eyes widened with fear that understanding dawned.

Screams of unimaginable pain tore from Riddle’s throat and Harry’s palms filled with blood by the sheer willpower it took not to go to him. By the time the yells subsided, Tom collapsed to his knees on the floor. When he pitched forward though, Harry was there to cradle him against his chest.

As he rocked Tom in his arms, Harry whispered soothing words of how well he’d done, that it was all over now. He was okay, they were okay. Harry’s hands stroked the back of Tom’s head until his words were nothing but low mutterings that faded…

Harry woke with a gasp and his hands grabbed for his glasses before shoving them onto his face. A quick glance round the room reminded him he was still in his own room though. He was still in his own time. Harry heaved a sigh of relief; the dream had felt so real. Too real. He trembled at the idea that it might have been a memory.

Did this mean he was remembering?

 

Harry did his utmost best to avoid looking at Tom that morning. Though he could still feel the penetrating gaze follow him until the other man finally spoke.

“Harry.”

The man in question looked up, a knee-jerk reaction he’d be sorry for soon. Because before he could look away again, Tom had locked eyes with him. Harry saw his mouth mutter the words Legillimens and it was too late to shield himself.

Harry gasped as a foreign presence penetrated his mind and delved into his most recent memory. Images of last night’s dream flashed through his mind in a hazy blur. But before Tom could go any deeper, Harry found the strength to thrust him violently from his head.

The two of them came back to the present with a jarring force and once Harry’s eyes could focus again, he saw that Tom’s were wide with shock.

“You remembered,” came the barely-whispered words.

A flush of anger boiled up inside Harry’s chest. “Don’t ever do that again!”

The other man ignored his ire in favour of grabbing him, an odd look blooming on his handsome features. “You had a memory. Of us.”

Harry tore out his grasp. “So?”

“So?” Tom said, and his lip curled in a sneer. “That means you’re able to retrieve the lost memories, you imbecile.”

“Watch it,” Harry warned but said nothing more. Of course the thought had crossed his mind but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it now.

“Harry,” Tom said, more gently this time. Pale hands placed themselves on his arms in a placating gesture. “That was a memory. You were trying to get me to feel remorse for the girl in Hogwarts. You had also… tried to get me to feel it for my father’s death.” There was something harsh in his tone now as he continued. “Which I’ve attempted to tell you time and again, is nothing more than a lost cause.”

Harry met Tom’s considering gaze and instantly regretted it as the other man took that as some kind of sign. He lifted his hands from his arms to place on either side of his face. Harry’s breath hitched at the affectionate gesture but found he could not pull away from it, too mesmerized by the intent look on Tom’s face.

“But you’d returned a bit of my soul to me, Harry,” the other man said in a quiet and wondrous tone of voice. “Don’t you remember it?”

Harry’s jaw clenched and, if possible, his frustration only grew. “No.” Wrapping his fingers round Tom’s wrists, the hands were pulled from his face.

It was a mistake, Harry soon realized, when he didn’t drop the contact and Tom took that as an invitation to step even closer into Harry’s space. It forced him to look up into the other man’s face and Harry’s heart thudded heavily in his chest along with a deliberate swallow.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

Harry blinked at the sudden switch in the conversation. Again, he answered truthfully. “No.”

“It wasn’t terribly different from the second time we met,” Tom said. “You did try to kill me both times.”

Harry smiled despite himself. “Third time’s the charm.”

There was a breath of laughter from Tom, so soft that Harry doubted what it was at first. His stomach gave a tiny flutter at the sound and he silently admonished himself for it.

“To be fair, I had wanted to kill you as well,” Tom said.

“Well, nobody’s perfect.”

A smirk ticked up the corner of Tom’s mouth. “But you see, you looked at me differently than anyone else had. It was like you knew me, and knew all my secrets and desires.” He pinned Harry with an intense gaze. “I got the impression that I had done some terrible, irredeemable wrong to you.”

Harry’s spine straightened and knew Tom sensed it though he kept talking, watching Harry closely. “I instantly felt on guard. But then it didn’t matter, of course. In the end you somehow managed to make me… feel things about you that weren’t just murderous intent.”

A weak laugh escaped Harry’s lips. “Is this the speech you gave at our wedding?”

The smile Tom gave was flat and bitter. “We never had a formal ceremony.”

Harry felt a twinge of awkwardness; of course they didn’t. Not in the year nineteen-forty-six.

“Right,” Harry said and cleared his throat.

“But I suppose it all makes sense now, doesn’t it?” Tom continued in an off-hand manner. He gazed at a point in the distance for some time and Harry wondered if that was all he wanted to say. Then he added, “You were right, then, to try and kill me. I would have done the same. Perhaps worse.”

Harry couldn’t think of anything to say to that so he didn’t try.

 

* * *

 

Harry pretended to read as he lay on the living room sofa. It was a small publication called ‘The Almanac of Life and Death: Blood Magycks, Issue No.3094’.

He eyed his Quidditch Weekly magazine on the coffee table longingly.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t focus and his mind travelled elsewhere. Primarily, to the memory of how Tom Riddle’s lips felt against his. How nice it was, too… Until Harry’s mind strayed to the expression Tom wore when he figured out Harry was starting to remember things.

It was a fleeting emotion which came and went within the blink of an eye. Almost too fast to even acknowledge. But Harry had picked it up; years of being an Auror had taught him as much. It was those same instincts which also told him that what he saw in that brief flash was fear.

Harry was almost sure of it. Even though he did not think he could trust his feelings regarding the other man now.

The roar of green flames coming to life in the fireplace interrupted his thoughts. Hermione came tumbling out a second later carrying an armful of parchments and scrolls. Her hair more unruly than Harry’s on a good day. She rushed over as soon as she spotted him and Harry had to scramble to make room for her on the couch lest he be buried by his friend and all her detritus.

“Harry, you won’t believe it!”

“Did you find anything?” he asked.

She grinned as she spread out all her things on the table and Harry began to examine it all. “I’m not sure, but it’s an idea – ”

“Well, what is it?”

Her brow creased and she looked uncertain all of a sudden. “It might be dangerous though. Too dangerous even for us.”

“Hermione,” Harry began in a flat tone and took her shoulders in his hands to look her in the eye. “I died. Twice. Not to mention disappeared completely for twelve days and still managed to come back in one piece.”

She flapped a dismissive hand at him.

“Look, it doesn’t matter. I have to do this,” Harry continued with a weary sigh. “What if this were Rose or Hugo? Wouldn’t you at least – ”

“Ron and I would take a killing curse for them and you know it.”

Hermione’s eyes flashed a steely glint and Harry’s mouth twitched as his chest filled with a strange sort of pride.

“Exactly.”

The concerned look lifted to be replaced with a determined fire. “Right,” she said, and opened up one of the large books she’d brought with her. It looked about a thousand years old to Harry and he vaguely wondered how it was even keeping itself together.

“What’s all this then?” Harry asked.

“I found a few passages here and there that hinted at another realm – one that sounded awfully familiar to the one Vol – er, Riddle – described from what you apparently told him.”

Harry nodded along as she continued.

“So when I began to piece them all together, they made a sort of… well, just see for yourself.”

“Hang on – ” Harry said, and got up to go stand at the bottom of the stairs. He called up to Tom and a moment later, the other man’s steady tread could be heard coming down.

Harry’s eyes couldn’t help taking the time to rove over him when he appeared. His first thought was that Tom looked tired. His second was that he also looked… good.

The sleeves of the other man’s white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows and the top three buttons undone. The look revealed a lot of frankly tantalizing amount of skin. Tom looked disheveled and heart-poundingly soft.

Hermione cleared her throat and Harry felt his face flush hotly. He’d been looking too long and Tom seemed to notice as well; he brushed far too close to Harry as he followed him into the living room. There was a smug tick at the corner of his mouth too, and a sparkle in his eye. Thankfully, he said nothing and instead settled in the chair opposite the sofa Harry had occupied with Hermione.

Hermione continued the explanation of her findings.

According to one of the entries, when the blood donor of ‘pure heart’ arrived in the Realm of Light and Night, they were required to retrieve a ‘poisoned nectar’. After finding it, they must feed it to the child they wish to bring into the world of the living.

“For a soul must first die in one realm if it is to survive in another,” Hermione read aloud.

Tom’s gaze was intense as he stared at the evidence before him. “You never mentioned feeding anything to her.”

“So that’s got to be it, right?” Harry said. “We’ll just go back and find whatever it is we – I – missed before!”

Tom reached over to the book, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he pointed to a line in the text.

“Beware those who return to the Land of Light and Night,” he read out in his low timbre. “For it will contain horrors that will torment until the hour is up and the Life Giver is drowned…”

Harry had to admit that didn’t sound very nice, but…

He glanced toward the stairs where Evelyn had come stumbling down that first morning, tears in her glass green eyes. The familiar warmth and smell of her cradled against his chest. Her soft hair and steady little heartbeat…

“I don’t care. I’m going to do it.”

Tom took in a slow breath and when he looked up, his gaze held a trace of anxiety but one of determination and acceptance as well. He, too, knew they had no choice.

Harry sat back and scrubbed a hand through his hair with a sigh. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d done far more impossible things in his lifetime. Though this time, it wasn’t just his life on the line. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. “You up for it?”

Harry blew out a breath before answering. “I have to,” he said. “There’s no other way.”

Hermione gave him a feeble smile. “To be honest, if there’s one person on this earth that knows how to defy all the odds, it’d be you, Harry,” she said, and began to gather up everything she’d brought with her into a pile.

Harry dithered as he watched her. Hermione had always been one of two of his closest confidants though, and knew he could tell her anything. So he brought up the possibility of his returning memory. Though the exact details would have to stay between him and Tom.

“At least that’s what we think,” Harry finished.

For her part, Hermione looked between him and Tom with wide eyes. “That’s excellent, Harry,” she said, and plopped back onto the sofa beside him. “Are you quite sure? How – ”

With a small movement of his head, Harry gestured to Tom. “He saw it,” he said without bothering to hide his bitterness of the fact. “Used Legillimens on me this morning and said it was a memory, apparently.”

They both glanced to Tom who looked the picture of indifference, ignoring the ire directed toward him with easy grace.

“Remember back in forth year when you were able to resist the Imperius curse?” Hermione asked, and from the corner of his eye, Harry could see Tom’s eyebrows rise in clear interest. “Well, if you can do that – Defeat the Dark Lord and come back from the dead – I’d wager you could overcome this memory loss, don’t you?”

Harry aimed a boyish grin at his friend. “Well, I am the Chosen One.”

The comment was instantly awarded a scroll slapped against his arm and Harry winced as he laughed. “I’m serious! Thank you, for the vote of confidence.”

Hermione shook her head. “Well, I mean it,” she replied with a smile of her own. “And so would Ron if he were here. We’re coming over when you decide to do the ceremony, okay? So please, for heaven’s sake, tell us. I don’t want anything to happen…” she trailed off with a brief glance at Tom who remained silent, listening.

Harry gave her another small smile. “You know I wouldn’t dream of throwing myself into danger again without you two there.”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

Hermione and Harry startled at the sudden statement. Tom’s handsome face held a stern, cold look that went at odds with the sentiment that came from his mouth. Though Harry could understand he was being reassuring, albeit in his own Riddle-like way.

Hermione pursed her lips and gave Tom a crisp nod. She then gathered her things and headed for the Floo when she looked over her shoulder at Harry.

“You can do this. Merlin knows stranger things have happened.”

 

* * *

 

It was early in the evening when Harry decided he’d go to bed. But it seemed as soon as his head hit the pillow, he had another dream. Or it might have been a memory. This time, he couldn’t be sure.

_“Stay away from her,” Harry heard himself say in a low, threatening voice._

_He was in a secluded area of what looked to be a shop. The closer he looked, Harry realized it was Borgin and Burkes._

_And he had Tom Riddle pushed up against a wall, fist twisted in his shirt collar._

_A hateful sneer twisted Tom’s expression as he looked down at Harry. “Who are you really?” he hissed._

_Harry leaned in closer so that their noses almost touched. “Someone who knows you well enough not to believe anything you say.”_

_There was a pregnant pause. A breath of air before Harry was the one slammed up against the shelf. Items on the shelves shuddered and clinked together dangerously.  Harry struggled against Tom’s grip on his arms, pinning him down. But when the other man leaned in this time, it was to crush a bruising kiss against his lips. And to Harry’s horror, he let it happen, crumbling under the man’s power with a desperate gasp. The hands on his shoulders moved to tangle in Harry’s hair, tugging and pulling him closer._

_Harry’s own hands were just as restless, moving over every inch of Tom he could reach. The kissing began to look more like a fight than anything else. Clothing was ripped away so mouths could attach to the soft skin of a neck, a shoulder, a collarbone. Gasps and grunts filled the small space as they jostled for dominance._

_“I would kill you in the blink of an eye,” Tom rasped against Harry mouth, breath hot against his lips. “But for now, you’ve cursed me. I know it. There’s no other explanation for why I want you this much.”_

_There was the soft clink of a belt buckle being undone. “You think too much,” Harry whispered before his hand dove into the other man’s trousers, and his lips into another heated kiss._

Harry woke with a soft gasp and the immediate knowledge that he was painfully aroused. He lay in bed for a while to get his bearings and try will the erection he now sported away.

Down the hall, he could hear the murmured voices of his guests. It was almost Evelyn’s bed time, so she must be practicing her reading. A routine she seemed to do every night before bed. But then there came Tom’s low timbre and, oh…

There just went Harry’s self-control again.

He must be going insane. Why was he even thinking about this?

Harry leaped from bed and headed straight for the bathroom for a cold shower. When he got out, much cooler and under control, he couldn’t go back to sleep. So instead he padded downstairs to find the living room lights still on and a fire blazing in the grate.

Harry paused, hit with a strong sense of déjà vu though he couldn’t understand why. Tom Riddle sat in one of the armchairs and it felt… familiar, somehow.

He’d obviously been standing there in thought for too long. Because when the other man lifted his head from a book he was reading, he didn’t seem surprised to see Harry.

Harry cleared his throat as if to say something then thought better of it and turned to leave again. But then Tom closed his book with a deliberate air and put it aside. “Stay,” he said, effectively halting Harry's escape. Then more gently, added, “Please.”

Harry hesitated a moment before he reluctantly went and sat down on the sofa opposite the armchair. Tom, the bastard, came over to sit down next to him anyway.

“You’re not doing the ceremony.”

Harry stiffened and narrowed his eyes at the other man. “Yes, I am.”

“No, Harry, I don’t want you to do it because I should be the one to do it.”

“Why? I’ve done it before, right? So what’s the prob – ”

“You don’t understand,” Tom cut him off. “You nearly… died the last time you went in, and I know you don’t remember your time with me. But I do, and I can’t let you almost slip through my fingers again. I can’t…” He took a single, measured breath through his nose and looked down. “I can’t go through another year, let alone the rest of my life, without you.”

Harry stared, dumb-struck and speechless.

“Evelyn can’t go through it either, not without her father.”

Harry’s voice when he spoke this time was quiet. “She has you…” he tried to offer but Tom shook his head.

“It’s not the same and you know it as well as I do," Tom said and then sighed; a bone-weary and almost... defeated sound. It threw Harry off so much he almost didn’t catch when Tom continued. “She needs that stupid muggle song to fall asleep at night,” he said. “She needs someone who makes those unhealthy breakfast foods every weekend and indulges all her silly little ideas of romance and friendship. Because although I still believe it’s a childish and futile thing, I can admit that some of it may have… some… benefit.”

The words seemed like they physically pained Riddle to say out loud.

The corners of Harry’s mouth tugged upward, though the smile was bittersweet. “Tom, I get it. But I’ve also got a pretty good track record with getting through harrowing and potentially fatal ordeals, so…”. He shrugged one shoulder and when he looked, Tom had one eyebrow raised.

“That’s the same argument you made the first time we did this…” Tom said quietly.

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, but it didn’t look like the other man wanted an answer anyway. Instead, Tom let out a sigh and said, “You win, Harry.... Again.”

The smile on Harry’s face was genuine this time, and completely helpless. Who knew Tom could be so human?

Tom’s eyes took in the smile, unashamed of his own blatant stare. When he finally tore his gaze away, he ran his hands through his perfectly coiffed hair, tousling it.

Harry felt a tug in the pit of his stomach; something hot and definitely interested. Rather than examine the reaction too closely though, Harry coughed and made to leave again when Tom caught his hand, his eyes intense when Harry turned to face him.

“Stay,” Tom said again. “Have a drink with me.”

Harry knew he should refuse but the warm fingers wrapped around his wrist had his pulse picking up speed. His brain felt fuzzy and light as he nodded once.

Harry swallowed thickly as Tom moved to get them a drink from the cabinet in the corner of the room. He watched him move, skin feeling flushed and hot already. When Tom returned with a glass of wine each, Harry took his, fingers brushing the other man’s and sending a spark of electricity down his spine. Tom retook his seat beside him.

Harry tried to avoid eye contact as he took hesitant sips, terrified of the possibility that Tom might see his dream from only an hour ago.

A shift on the sofa had Harry stiffening before Tom could lean in too close. The other man’s hand froze inches away from his face. “What are you doing?” Harry asked but it came out sounding too breathless.

There’s nothing but a whispered “Please” for a reply. And for some reason, Harry couldn't find it within himself to refuse such a heartfelt plea. So he said nothing as Tom’s hand brushed a lock of hair over his ear, the gesture sending an involuntary shudder down Harry’s spine. He closed his eyes, thinking of how he hadn’t felt such an intimate touch in months. The last time he’d been with someone, it was purely sex. Not… this.

Tom leaned further into him so that his nose touched Harry’s temple. The slight inhale caused goosebumps to rise on his neck and arms.

“I’ve missed your skin,” Tom whispered, breath ghosting hot against Harry’s cheek. His hand placed itself on his knee, squeezing gently. “The feel of you in my arms, your taste…”

This was a bad idea. But Harry could feel himself give in the more Tom talked.

“Harry.”

The name, so reverent and _aching_ on Tom’s tongue, is what had the last of Harry’s walls crumbling. He turned his face so their foreheads touched, lips mere inches apart. It would be so easy if he just…

Harry let Tom close the distance, pressing their lips together in a sweet and longing kiss.

Then it was as though they couldn’t stop. Harry did not even think he’d be able to, not for anything or anyone in the world.

Kisses turned to caresses and heavy petting until Harry was desperately trying to tug off their clothing just to feel skin against skin. The hell of it all was that it all felt so right. How could any of this feel so right? There was no logical answer, but neither did Harry care at the moment. All that mattered was feeling Tom all around him, warm and pulsing inside him.

As clothing shed, Tom’s mouth strayed from Harry’s lips to his jaw, planting hungry kisses there and down to his neck. Harry’s own lips parted on a gasp. He arched into the touches, the roaming hands, craving it like food for a starving man. They knew exactly where to touch to make him sing.

When fingers wrapped around the back of his thigh, Harry let himself be pulled onto Tom’s lap. In no time at all, he found himself straddling the other man, their stiff erections clear for the other to see. They did not stop for a second though. In the next moment, Harry’s lips were claimed in an all-consuming kiss as frantic hands travelled along every body part within reach and did not stop.

“Harry,” Tom chanted in a breathless whisper. “Look at you… So amazing. Still so amazing… and mine. Always mine, my love.”

The words had Harry’s breath stalling in his throat and his limbs shaking. They were both panting harshly as a rocking rhythm picked up between them. Their throbbing interests pushed against one another and they lost themselves to the friction.

Tom’s gaze was dark and steady on Harry as one hand traveled down Harry’s back to rest at the base of his spine, settling there for a moment before dipping lower. Harry’s back arched again on a hitched breath and his eyes locked with Tom’s, mouth parted on harsh pants. Their gazes were fire but no words were spoken for fear that it might break the spell and Harry would realize what he was doing, and with whom.

Only breaths were exchanged as a finger slid down and carefully prepared Harry with a whispered lubricating charm. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and Tom hummed in a satisfied rumble as he slide in and out of Harry, first one finger then two, three…

Harry jerked on Tom’s lap when the blunt head of an erection prodded at his entrance, yet did nothing to stop it. He wanted it, he needed it. Though he was sure he was condemning himself for a world of guilt and shame later.

This. Right now, right here, with _him_ , felt too good.

Harry sunk down with a loud, low moan that Tom had to smother with a kiss lest it be heard from upstairs. He felt the smirk against his lips too and it only made his heart beat faster. Harry’s hands gripped those strong, pale shoulders tighter while Tom’s fingers dug into his hips, encouraging them to meet his every thrust.

It didn’t take long at all for Harry’s breath to stutter in his throat and Tom’s hips to jerk on a guttural grunt of release.

Both of them couldn’t seem to catch their breath as the mess between them cooled. Though it didn’t stop Tom from pressing light, fluttering kisses along his temple and jaw, down to his shoulder until Harry thought that he might shatter completely.

So Harry rolled off Tom to collapse back against the couch cushions, chest heaving. Once their hearts had calmed enough, Tom confessed into the ensuing quiet. “I tried, you know,” he said.

Harry turned his head to look over at the man and was surprised to find him staring back; a deep, unfathomable emotion roiling in the depths of his eyes.

“I tried for six whole months. Everything – ” His breath faltered over a quiet curse. “ _Anything_. Evelyn was difficult enough on my own but the not knowing… That’s what…”

He didn’t finish the sentence but the unspoken words were understood well enough. It caused Harry’s heart to seize up again and he returned the intense gaze, waiting for the other man to continue. Not sure what to say to him either way. 

“I thought…” Tom continued and paused to swallow. Harry’s eyes watched the bob of his Adam’s Apple with heated interest as he continued to listen. “I knew I was going to lose my mind.”

When it seemed Tom had nothing more to say after that, Harry leaned into the hand cupping his cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he replied with a wry twitch of his lips. “Past experience and all that.”

The words earned a ghost of a smile in return and it was odd, Harry thought. Of how, at that moment, that little victory felt a million times better than catching the Golden Snitch ever did.

Harry leaned in to breathe a hot, whispered suggestion into the shell of Tom’s ear – “Let’s move this to the bedroom.”

The ghost of a smile on those handsome lips turned wicked.

 

* * *

 

Evelyn found them in bed together the next morning.

Harry reveled in the warmth beside him before he blinked open bleary eyes. Her beaming smile from the perch at the end of the bed was the first thing he saw and with a jolt of surprise, he scrambled to gather the bed sheets around him for some semblance of decency.

“Are papa and daddy together again?”

Harry shot a glance beside him, unsure of how to answer. The other man was also awake, but a lot less perturbed by her presence than Harry was. The handsome face wore a carefully placid expression, leaving Harry to answer this one for himself.

“Um, we’re not sure yet,” Harry replied, the answer surprising himself more than anyone.

This didn’t seem to faze Evelyn though, and she crawled further up the bed to wedge herself between her fathers, Apep curled round her elbow and hissing softly.

“That’s okay, Papa said we just need to wait a little longer anyway.”

Harry rose one eyebrow but chose not to make a fuss about that just yet.

 

* * *

 

It was a few days later when Harry sat at the kitchen table with Evelyn while Tom had gone off to find the bones of a newborn. The mere idea of which made Harry’s skin crawl, so he’d left Tom in charge of such a dubious task. Now all that remained was to practice the blood ritual incantation. Something Harry had already gone over with Ron and Hermione the few times they’d popped in.

“Daddy?”

Harry hummed to let her know he was listening and didn’t even blink when he realized he’d answered to the name.

Evelyn kicked her legs out under the kitchen table as she wrote into her beaten up old dragon-hide notebook. Harry waited patiently for her to find the words to continue as he busied himself by memorizing the incantation again.

“How come…” Evelyn began before she fell into another long pause. “Um, how come papa never laughs?”

Harry’s eyes jerked up to where she sat, still fixated on whatever it was she was doing in her notebook.

“Well,” Harry began, again unsure of how to answer her. He decided to choose his words carefully before he continued. “I’m not sure, actually. I think it comes more easily to some people than others.”

“It’s easy for me.”

Harry smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“And you too,” Evelyn added happily. “You laugh more now though. Not so much back in… back at home.”

Harry looked at her curiously.

“When you’re with uncle Ron and auntie Hermione, you go – ” A low, hearty laugh erupted from her mouth which had Harry chuckling.

Still grinning, he asked, “Do I really sound like that?”

Evelyn bobbed her head.

“Tom – Er, your papa smiles though.”

“Yeah.”

When the little girl seemed absorbed in her notebook again, Harry permitted himself to drift off in thought. Memories of how close he and Tom had become in the last few days, ever since he’d let himself be kissed that first time, it was like he’d let loose a flood. There was hardly a moment they weren’t touching, and hardly a night or morning that wasn’t spent learning each other’s bodies. Or re-learning, as it were.

When the heat of those thought began to pool in his belly, Harry snapped himself out of it in time to realize where he was. With a sheepish glance at Evelyn, Harry cleared his throat and got up before he almost tripped on his way to make a cup of tea.

It seemed one of the Granger-Weasley children had left a toy behind.

Bending down, Harry realized it was not a toy but a Sneakoscope. It must have been Ron’s either way, as Harry couldn’t find his own anymore.

Harry placed it on the table and looked up to find Evelyn staring at it with a sour expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like that thing. It’s too noisy and always spins around.”

Harry picked it up again and held it out. “It’s not going off now, see?”

Evelyn’s face pinched up. “It was always spinning back home. Then you started to… to be angry with papa and then you took me away.”

Harry felt himself still at the potential meaning behind those words and a deep frown creased his brow. “Do you remember what I was angry about?”

She fidgeted in her seat and stared at her notebook like she were being scolded. Harry softened and crouched beside her. “Evelyn, it’s alright. I’m not angry with you, okay?”

She sniffed and said, “But papa said not to tell you.”

The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up and he struggled to keep his tone from sounding demanding. “What did he tell you not to tell me?”

Evelyn fiddled with the quill in her hand and said nothing for a long time until she finally mumbled, “I don’t want to... I don’t want to go away again. Please, daddy.”

Harry stared at her, a horrible and foreboding feeling rising up in the back of his mind.

“Evelyn.”

The sound of her name, in that tone, had her shoulders bunching up and her mouth twisted unhappily. “He said not to tell you about the people that he used to kiss sometimes…”

Harry froze, heart and breath stuttering to a halt in his chest.

“What?” His voice was barely a whisper, all the air having been punched out at the words he was hearing.

“He tried to make you forget but you went away instead. You fell in the flowers and then you went away,” she finished with a heart-wrenching sob.

Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Could hardly believe Tom would do such a thing to him, to their family…

Then the sounds of Evelyn’s distress brought him out of the blackening clouds that began to swirl like a gathering storm in his head. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and spoke in as calm a tone as he could manage with the build-up of emotion already choking him like poison.

“It’s okay,” Harry soothed. “I’m here now. I remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a [tumblr](http://vanillaghost.tumblr.com) in case anyone wanted to scream at me in a different setting.


	6. The Place Beyond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You gorgeous clever darlings. Your comments on the last chapter were all so amazing and there was no way I could reply to most without giving something away - It would have been way too tempting!! I'm sorry!  
> But here, have some (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Conflict~ ✧ ･ﾟ:*

He should have known.

Anger and despair rose in Harry’s chest; a bitter concoction that tasted heavy on his tongue and burned his throat.

_He should have known._

There was never going to be a ‘happily ever after’ for him. Not with a murderer. Not with Tom Marvolo Riddle. Suddenly it all rushed back like a flood; trudging through the dark forest, his daughter’s footsteps following close beside him. Fear and confusion laced her voice as she begged him to tell her what was going on. Why were they leaving home? Why were they running away from papa?

And then there had been a scream –

His name, called out from somewhere in the darkness behind them. Harry had stopped anyway, staring at the forest floor where it was carpeted in little white flowers. So pale and bright they almost glowed in the dark. He held his daughter’s hand in a firm grip before he turned.

Tom stood only a few steps behind them. His wand was raised, aimed at Harry who only stared grimly back. Sadness buried beneath a thick layer of disappointment and righteous fury. Tom’s chest heaved with pants, his handsome mask had cracked enough to show the desperation he must have felt when he’d returned to find their home empty. Nothing but a scribbled note to let him know…

“Harry, please – Don’t – ”

That normally calm and collected voice had sounded so _wrecked_. But Harry only shook his head and slowly turned back to the clearing of white flowers. He extended his hand beside him for Evelyn to take again, but before her little hand could brush his –

“HARRY!”

He ignored the frantic roar of his name and began to take a step forward when his head exploded with blistering white hot pain. His vision blurred until all he saw was a green light and the snowy glow of petals floating past him as he fell into the pitch black chasm that split open the earth. Nothing but the sound of his daughter’s scream echoed in his ears before the darkness swallowed him whole.

The revelation was a shard of glass that lodged itself in the middle of Harry’s chest. His eyes stung but refused to shed a tear though the betrayal was what stung the most.

He should have known, and now that he remembered, he didn’t have to make the same mistake again.

 

* * *

 

Harry sat in one of the unused rooms upstairs, nothing within it but dust and a set of armchairs covered with a sheet. It was from his seat in one of them that he listened to the roar of the Floo and the unmistakable steady tread of his husband’s movements across the floorboards below. Evelyn had already been sent outside to play with Apep. Though the sound of soft hisses alerted Harry to a short exchange happening between Tom and Nagini. The snake had always been loyal, first and foremost, to her master after all. Harry had no doubt she was telling him of his current mood and whereabouts.

Harry did not mind, he had been waiting.

There was no hesitancy in the footsteps as they ascended the staircase. But by the time Tom arrived in the doorway of the empty room, he hovered uncertainly for a moment. But in the next, he held Harry’s gaze as he smoothly strode forward and stopped a few steps from where the other man sat to hold out a small dragon skin pouch.

So he’d managed to acquire the bones then. Harry took them in a tight fist when Tom broke the silence.

“Something’s happened.”

Harry did not trust himself to speak yet, the furious dark clouds inside him swirling, threatening to burst. So he gave a curt jerk of his head instead.

A small crease appeared on Tom’s otherwise smooth brow. “What is it? You seem troubled.”

The first crack of lightning split through Harry and the ruse – the charade – _the whole lie_ was enough. His temper flared as he launched himself out of the armchair to face Tom. Jaw clenched and staring into that handsome face, he spoke in a low, cold, voice.

“You Obliviated me.”

There was hardly any reaction at all. Harry supposed he should have known that too.

“What are you talking about, Harry?”

And there it was; that leveled voice. The gentle hand taking hold of his in a show of false concern.

Oh, he was a good liar indeed.

Harry snatched back his hand, suddenly repulsed by the other man’s mere touch. “I knew there had to be something!” he hissed, desperately willing his voice not to break. “There was never going to be anything good with you, was there?”

His heart teetered dangerously from anger to misery at that moment so he began to leave when his name called again and he stopped. Harry spun on his heel to find Riddle’s face had darkened, eyes boring into him.

“I find it typical of you, Harry, that once again you refuse to believe anything but your own preconceived judgments.”

Harry’s eyes flashed and he stormed over to crowd into Tom’s space. “Because I know what kind of man you are, Tom, and I don’t know why I thought this was _ever_ going to be a good idea, but I know better now.” He took out his wand, brandishing it like a sword. “And don’t even think about trying it again or I swear to you, Riddle, I _will_ kill you this time.”

The man did not even have the decency to look fazed. He stared back at Harry who, with an aggravated huff, turned and marched to his room where he began to gather the things they needed for the ceremony.

“What are you doing?”

There it was again; that little trace of fear underlying the calm.

Harry shot him a hateful glare as he packed the items away in a small bag. “I’m going to do this fucking ceremony, and then you’re going to get the hell away from me. I want you out of my life, Tom, and for good this time!”

Tom’s face twisted into a snarl. “And what about Evelyn?” he bit out. “What about your child?”

“She’s staying with me. Or until I can find a nicer home for her.”

Somewhere that wasn’t with two broken men who obviously couldn’t trust each other.

“You wouldn’t. You might not remember, but you do love her.” Tom’s face hardened into that cold, unforgivable mask again. “I’m not letting you leave.”

Harry ignored the biting truth of Tom’s first statement and then barked a humourless laugh at the second. “Is that right? _You’re_ not going to let me leave? Well, you’re right there, Tom, because you’re the one who’s going to leave this time, not me.”

Tom grabbed him and Harry instinctively lashed out. His hand found whatever was closest and curled into a tight fist around it. They each had each other in a tight grip now and began to tussle to get the upper hand.

“I’ve repented a year for my sins, Harry,” Tom hissed as he held both Harry’s wrists in an iron hold. “I've suffered enough for the mistakes I’ve made.”

Harry’s temper roared to the surface again. “You think six months is more than enough? Try seventeen years, you prick! Which isn’t even counting the thirteen more I’ve had of sleepless nights, the ghosts, the nightmares...! You don’t know anything about suffering.”

Tom grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to the ground where he was pinned under his weight. “You’re right, I don’t,” he said in a low voice. He was so close it reminded Harry too much of their fight in Borgin and Burkes all those years ago. The reminder caused another lurch in Harry’s stomach of how stupid he’d been and tried futilely to twist away. But Tom held firm, making him hear what he had to say so badly. “Any pain was perfectly managed before you came along and ruined me. Now I must live through it like any other fool and it is hell!”

Harry managed to successfully throw him off this time. But instead of going at him again, Harry scrambled to his feet, panting harshly. His chest ached too much and the tears threatened to spill at any moment. He wanted to say something – anything – to make Riddle realize just how much he’d wounded him, but couldn’t.

So instead Harry turned, ignoring the continued calls of his name, and silently went in frantic search of his broom before he took off into the cold night air from his bedroom window. Leaving Riddle back in 12 Grimmauld Place and all the hurt with him.

 

* * *

 

When he came back later that night, the house was deathly silent. Riddle was nowhere to be seen and Harry surmised he must have gone out too. He felt a twinge of irritation that he would leave Evelyn alone and unsupervised. Though he supposed he could trust the snakes to at least take care of her in case something happened.

Harry trudged up the stairs, bone weary and with a heavy heart. The ride had helped chip away some of the anger, but now all that remained was the wound. He went to push his bedroom door open when he heard noises coming from Regulus’ room down the hall.

A quick glance from the hall found no light coming from the crack in the door. But then the sound came again and Harry went and pushed the door open with a creak to check in on Evelyn.

His heart sunk at the sight of the small mound on the bed that was the little girl curled up under the covers. Muffled sniffles were heard along with soothing hisses from what must be Apep. Guilt and regret washed through Harry in a vicious wave.

“Evelyn?”

The sniffling cut off on a choked gasp and Harry was immediately at the bedside pulling back the covers. Evelyn hid her face while Apep reared his from the loose circle he made round her neck.

“ _Bad tassste_ ,” Apep hissed quietly, tongue flickering out as he slithered from round her neck into the duvet covers. “ _Masstersss exchange loud words… Rotten tassste, very rotten… Hatchling weeps for her flesh and blood._ ”

“No, I’m not,” Came the miserable reply and Harry smiled sadly.

This time when he spoke her name, it sounded more like an apology. “Did you hear us? Is that why you’re crying?”

“M’not cry-ring…” she said as her shoulders shook with heavy sobs.

Harry sighed and placed a gentle hand on the soft hair of her head. “Ev, I’m sorry you heard that.”

She looked up and if possible it only made Harry want crawl into a hole for the shame of making this girl look so heartbroken. “Does this mean… Are… are you and papa not… not going to love each other anymore?”

The question looked like it physically hurt her to ask and Harry wanted to cry too.

So he did. His voice broke on the third time he said her name and gathered her in his arms as he settled into the bed with her. He stroked her head, rocking her gently as he tried to console the both of them. Her tears flowed freely now.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he finally answered on a whisper. “I’m so sorry, I wish I did.”

A morose, feeble voice spoke into his shoulder. “I don’t want to go away, daddy. Please don’t make me go away… !” She broke down into hysterical sobbing again and Harry could feel the pain like it was his own. He shouldn’t have said that to Riddle; of course she would have been listening.

Harry hushed her and promised he would never send her away and found, to his own surprise too, that he meant it. He wouldn’t leave her behind again. He _couldn’t_. He knew next to nothing about raising a child, but he was willing to try his utmost best.

After a long while, Evelyn’s sobs petered off into sniffles again until that too was replaced with heavy breathing. Harry found himself equally exhausted and fell asleep cradling her in his arms.

He had only one dream that night.

Harry dreamed of the closet. It was just as dim, small, and stuffy as it had always been. The air too thin. He’d had the same dream many times before but still he pounded on the door. Still yelled and screamed until his voice was hoarse though no one heard him. He was trapped, imprisoned. While outside his friends and family were dying.

But this time, when the slat in the door slammed shut in his face and plunged him into sudden darkness, he did not wake. This time a soft warm glow came to life behind him and he turned. 

Harry stared at the flickering candle in wonder and confusion until a face began to slowly emerge from the shadows beyond it. Harry knew who it was almost immediately. He would know that sculpted cheekbone anywhere. The wicked smile that curved a handsome mouth under dark, glittering eyes. Tom’s gaze was hungry and sultry as more and more flesh revealed itself in the soft glow. A pair of slender, unfamiliar arms wrapped around Tom’s neck as he lowered his head to meet a pair of lips in a passionate kiss.

Disgust and outrage settled within Harry's stomach in a tight knot, soured further by the sharp bitterness of heartbreak.

Those shapely lips of Tom’s began to form words but no sound came. Harry strained his hearing but the cramped dark space smothered everything. The candle dimmed and shivered as Harry’s heart pounded a harsh rhythm, uncertain whether it was in fear or anger. What he did know was that he could no longer watch the scene before him without going mad until –

“Daddy.”

Harry spun at the soft whisper to find the familiar sea-foam eyes of his daughter, washed out to a pale amber in the warm glow. The dark crept closer yet he could read the look in them clearly. She gazed imploringly and from her pretty, bow-like lips came another whisper, even quieter than the last.

“Daddy, help me.”

She looked as if she were trying to say something else but Harry couldn’t hear her anymore, and in the next second it didn’t matter. Evelyn unleashed a mute scream, desperate and despairing as she reached out with small, spindly arms. Harry yelled back, frantically trying to get to her when the dark swallowed them up as an unseen breeze extinguished the flame. Nothing but a tendril of smoke and the tiny red pinprick of a dying ember remained on the wick of the candle before that too was gone. Replaced with only a pitch black emptiness.

He was falling.

Harry jolted awake with a sharp intake of breath and coughed like he’d been underwater. He blinked into the pale grey light of morning. Exhaustion still pressed down on him until he recognized the solid weight of Evelyn still in his arms. He peered down at her messy head of hair. She was so still.

Harry shifted and when she didn’t complain, he gently lay her down next to him on the bed.

Her body flopped like a rag doll and Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He quickly took in her pale face and alarm shot through him, kick-starting his brain into full wakefulness in an instant. When he called her name, she did not respond. Harry shook her bony shoulders but she did not move.

“ _Hatchling not asss warm asss before_ ,” came a whispered hiss from somewhere among the sheets.

Harry’s heart rate spiked and he hurriedly checked her pulse – It was faint. Barely there at all. Apep had been right too; her skin was ice cold.

Panic rose in Harry’s throat like bitter acid, almost choking him with fear.

_Please, no. Please, please, please –_

Harry gathered Evelyn in his arms and began to yell for Tom as he raced from the room.

The time for waiting was over. The ceremony had to be done _now_.

 

* * *

 

Harry thundered downstairs with Evelyn limp in his arms before he lay her on one of the living room sofas.

Riddle was nowhere to be found.

Harry cursed under his breath but did not stop moving. He performed an Accio to retrieve the pouch of bones which flew down the stairs at breakneck speed. Harry snatched it out of the air in a tight grip before he began to gather Evelyn up again. Then there came the sound of the front door opening.

Harry spun round just in time to see Tom step inside, expression shuttered and every line in his body projecting exhaustion. But then his eyes immediately fell on their daughter and the sight of her seemed to inject him with a powerful dose of urgency.

Riddle was beside him in a second. “What’s happened to her,” he demanded.

“She’s not waking up!”

Riddle spat a curse as he took Evelyn from his arms and Harry called, “ _Nagini_!”

“What are you doing? We don’t have time for this,” Riddle said.

Harry ignored him to call for the snake with another harsh hiss.

The long and large slithering body appeared round the corner of the stairs with an aggravated movement. “ _The mate calls loudly –_ ” she began when Harry cut her off by brandishing a scrap bit of parchment he’d hastily scribbled a note on.

“ _Show this to Ron and Hermione to let them know we’ve gone to do the ceremony_.”

The reptile made an undulating movement and Tom held his pet’s slitted gaze. “ _Show them._ ”

Without waiting for a reply to see whether the order would be obeyed or not, Harry turned to where Riddle stood impatient with their little girl draped over one shoulder. Expression pale and pinched tight.

“You have to Apparate, I don’t know the place well enough,” Harry said as he hastily went to stand beside Riddle. The other man grabbed his arm and they turned on the spot.

The living room of number twelve Grimmauld place blurred before them to be replaced with green hills and a large dark pond. The early morning light was just as grey as it was in London, though the air was more unforgiving. A blustery and biting wind blew down from the surrounding hills almost pushing them over as they neared the edge of the loch.

As soon as they reached it, Harry and Tom began to prepare the ceremony in stressed, hurried silence.

Once everything had been set, the two men stared intently at one another at the edge of the water. At the same time, each lifted the wand and made a neat slice into their palms. Once three drops landed into the still surface, Harry healed the cut as best he could with a quick Episky.

Then he turned to gather Evelyn into his arms and slowly waded into the water.

It was icy cold but Harry hardly felt it; all he could do was stare down at the small face of his little girl. Listening to shallow breaths that hardly seemed like she was breathing at all. A tiny stir of her head and a twitch of her dark lashes let Harry know she was trying to fight to wake though and a surge of pride bloomed in his heart.

Then blue lips parted and she breathed out rasping words, “Daddy?”

“I’m here, darling. I’ve got you.”

“Where are we? I’m cold.”

Harry tried to level his voice and swallowed hard before he replied. “We’re going to try make you better.”

The water came up to Harry’s neck now and barely an inch of Evelyn’s face had broken through the surface. Her dark hair floated round her head like a halo, blending into the dark, icy water. She looked up at Harry with pale eyes.

“I’m scared,” she said in a tiny voice.

“I know, sweetheart,” Harry softly replied. “Me too.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “But we’re going to be brave now. Okay?”

She tilted her head and schooled her face into a mask that could rival Tom’s though Harry knew better. His chest clenched all the same, and he took another bracing swallow before his gaze drifted toward the bank of the loch. Tom stood at the edge; a tall, dark figure against the stark, bleak skyline. His wand was lifted as he muttered the words of the ritual, his expression one of intense focus.

Harry turned back to Evelyn and began to sink them below the still surface.

 

* * *

 

It took more than a few moments to recognize where he was. But once his memories kicked in, Harry realized he stood in the burned out shell of the cottage in Godric’s Hollow. He could already feel the weight of water around him but ignored it to instead focus on the journey he had to make.

But what was more pressing was the sudden absence of his daughter.

Alarmed, Harry spun on the spot and called out for her but there was no answer. He examined the blackened remains of each room until he ran out into the street, the yells of her name never stopping.

But she was nowhere to be found.

Harry raced down the street until the surroundings morphed into the familiar landscape of muggle London. Without slowing, he began to notice how old everything appeared. The sky was dark and cars from what looked to belong in the forties sat abandoned on the side of the road. But still he continued, down the streets, barren of life and reduced to rubble and dust when a light snow began to fall.

Harry wiped away a feather light touch on his cheek only to discover his hand smeared in pitch black. He startled at the realisation of what it was and looked up to find more ash falling from the heavy slate grey sky above. But then a thick yellow-brown fog quickly caught his eye, appearing only a few meters away down the road and Harry stopped when a small figure began to emerge from the smoke.

Harry’s heart almost stopped at the sight of the tattered white dress and scuffed leather shoes. The familiar knobby knees and raven black hair.

“Evelyn!”

Harry jerked into motion again, bolting toward her when his steps suddenly faltered and he came to an abrupt halt. Evelyn wore a muggle gas mask and with a sickening jolt, Harry realized what the fog was.

At the sound of his voice, Evelyn emerged from the fog just enough to reach out to him with her arms wide. “Daddy?” The mask muffled the word and her hand reached up to pry it off when Harry screamed –

“Evelyn, no, don’t take it off!”

Despite his cries, the mask came off and the noxious yellow gas thickened before swallowing her up completely.

“EVELYN!!”

Legs pumping, Harry raced forward again, chest heaving with desperate breaths until he too was enveloped in the fatal fog, uncaring of his own fate in his desperate attempt to reach his daughter.

But then the world gave a violent shudder and Harry blinked open his eyes to find that in the next moment he was in a forest.

He coughed and called out Evelyn’s name again in a scratchy rasp though he knew in his heart that she would not be there. A dry sob escaped his lips and struck the soft dark earth with his fists again and again until his knuckles were raw.

It was only some minutes later that he finally managed to remind himself that it wasn’t real. That the realm was trying trick him with images and people that weren’t really there.

His resolve solidified, Harry pulled himself into standing position. He’d find Evelyn soon. He had to.

Harry began to walk again, all the while knowing that he did not have much time left. An uncomfortable weight pressed in and around his lungs. He knew that if he did not find her soon and complete the task, they would both drown.

At some point, bricks replaced plants and a cracked stone floor covered the mossy earth.

He was in Hogwarts.

But like muggle London, it too was in ruins from the war. Harry’s war. He moved through it like a museum, recognizing all the places where someone had lost their life to defeat the Dark Lord when the ground beneath his feet gave another judder and Harry frowned.

Something was wrong. The air had become thicker and he knew he didn’t have much time left.

Hurrying his pace, Harry eventually found himself in the courtyard where he’d once defeated Voldemort. He tensed when an eerily familiar high-pitched voice called out to him in a hiss.

“Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, come to die...”

Harry stared at the tall imposing figure of Lord Voldemort standing where he stood all those years ago. Blood red eyes fixed on him, his mouth twisted in a thin, cruel smile.

“Well?” Voldemort sneered as he slowly paced only a few feet from Harry. “Here I am. Although.... Perhaps your desire is not to kill me this time, but to instead join with me? I am, after all, the father of your child.”

His laugh was a horrible sound that sent shivers up Harry’s spine to hear it again after so many years. His hand gripped the wand at his side, ready to fight again if he needed to.

But he didn’t have time – he had to find Evelyn and complete the task.

Voldemort turned to fully face him and let his arms fall to his sides in an expectant gesture. “Come, Harry. Come to me and we can rule everything together. You and I. Our power would be great and no one would dare stand in our way,” he hissed softly as he came closer. “Have you forgotten our wedding vows so soon? Join me, my love. ‘Till death do us part…”

Harry wanted to nothing more than to move but found himself paralyzed by the horror of his reality: He had married this man. He’d really done it. He’d married and had a child with the Dark Lord. He…

“Don’t listen to him, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he whipped round to find Tom standing only a few steps behind him. Was this an illusion too? A trick of the realm mean to –

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked breathlessly.

The younger dark lord came to stand by his side, wand in his hand as he glared at the vision of his future self. “The hour is nearly up,” he explained. “You haven’t surfaced and I couldn’t pull you out of the water.”

A new rush of urgency hit Harry and he too faced Voldemort again.

“He’s not me,” Tom said quietly beside him.

“I know.” Harry could feel Tom’s sideways glance.

“Together?” Harry asked.

Harry caught his nod from the corner of his eye before they called out their spells.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

“ _Avada Kedavra_.”

Voldemort’s ruby eyes widened as the spells hit him, too quick for him to block, and he exploded into ash. His remains collected in a heap on the ground while flakes drifted upward on an invisible breeze.

“Where is she?” Tom asked.

Harry nodded toward the Forbidden Forest beyond. “There. It has to be.”

Tom did not ask how he was so sure. Instead he grabbed Harry’s hand to continue on to the place where he had almost died thirteen years ago. To where Tom surely would if he had failed to find Harry in the future.

As they walked in silence through the forest, pale figures of light hovered at the edges, watching them as they made their journey.

“Who are they?”

Harry shot a quick glance around them at Tom’s quiet question and caught the flash of his godfather’s grin and his mother’s loving gaze.

“My family,” Harry answered, and continued on until they came across a clearing.

A large tree grew in the center but on closer inspection, it looked to be two; a holly and a yew twisted together. A phoenix screeched from its perch on one of the branches and watched them near with intelligent eyes.

As soon as they neared, they saw the frail form of Evelyn slumped against the base of the tree and each man rushed to her side.

“What do we do now? We don’t know what the nectar is that we’re supposed to feed her.”

Tom shook his head in frustration and looked around, mind no doubt racing.

Evelyn was as white as a ghost now and her chest was hardly rising and falling. Harry cradled her in his arms and silently cursed his own mistake of not completing the task the first time around.

The phoenix let out a mournful cry and swooped down from its perch, earning an unfavourable word from Tom before it landed softly on the grass beside them. This time Harry could hardly appreciate its beauty for the despair slowly creeping into his heart. The flame-coloured bird came to Evelyn’s side and bowed its head over her mouth to drop what it had in its beak. It was two berries - a holly and yew.

“Infernal creature!” Tom yelled and went to swat it away when Harry grabbed his wrist to stop him. “They're poisonous! Just one from a magical holly or yew tree is fatal - That idiotic bird is trying to kill her!”

Realization dawned on Harry and he slowly looked up at Tom. “The ritual… It said a soul must die in one realm if it’s to live in another.”

Tom also seemed to come to the same realisation because he looked back at Evelyn and, clenching his jaw, he nodded once.

Harry closed her mouth around the fruit and pointed his wand to cast a spell which would make her body consume the food. Then came the horrible wait. Each man watched her for some time, every heartbeat reverberating throughout Harry’s being. Everything was too quiet and loud at once, everything narrowed to that one point that was Evelyn in his arms. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until his vision became blurred with the drops that filled up his lenses. He let out a shuddering breath and glanced up at Tom who stared back at him, expression carefully blank.

Harry’s chest felt tight and simply breathing became too tremendous a task. He gasped as he cradled Evelyn’s soft head of raven hair. He kissed her forehead and apologized over and over for leaving her. For doing this to her.

There was a tug on his arm and Harry watched, unable to do anything as Tom took their daughter in his arms and began to stand.

“We must leave – the hour is up,” Tom said in a wooden voice. “The realm is beginning to collapse.”

Harry couldn’t quite comprehend anything at the moment but he let Tom take him to the field of little white flowers round the other side of the twisting trees. And as they stepped into the field of Woodland Albiflos, a bright white light began to surround them and all Harry could do was stare at their child, so pale and lifeless.

The shuddering breath which escaped Harry’s lips was swallowed up by the light before everything turned a deep crimson.

 

The first gulp of air was excruciating.

Harry’s lungs burned as coughs and gasps wracked through his body. Next to him, Tom reared his head from the water, also coughing and covered in the blood-like water that was now the loch. It was hard to distinguish any features except the pale blue of his irises and the white of his eyes in the substance masking his face. He pulled the body of their daughter up to the surface and Harry paddled furiously over to help keep her afloat.

They struggled to paddle one-armed to the bank of the pond where Harry was surprised to find his two friends waving and calling out frantically to them. They looked as if they’d just arrived. Ron had already begun to wade into the pond and was knee-deep in the red water, reaching out a hand for him to grab.

Harry grabbed it, still holding onto Tom and Evelyn in a firm grip with the other hand, and let his friends haul them out of the thick water. As soon as his feet touched firm ground though, he stumbled and half scrambled over the grass. Ron tried to help him up again but Harry could not stand just yet. He remained on the ground, his chest tight and breaths anguished when he finally looked over his shoulder at his daughter.

Tom had laid her on the bank of the pond. His own chest heaved with their near-drowning or with emotion, Harry wasn’t sure. But his gaze was glassy when he looked down at her. If possible, the expression made everything worse. He thought in that moment that he could see a sliver of the man Tom could become but his thoughts were interrupted when the body of their daughter gave a violent judder.

And at the sound of tiny coughs before a small, “Papa?” was spoken into the silence, Harry’s heart burst.

A sharp, stuttered breath escaped Tom’s lips as he stared down at Evelyn, shock frozen on his face. In the next moment he gathered her up in his arms again while Harry let out a sob as relief washed through him. He did not think he’d heard a sweeter sound in all his life than the sound of his little girl calling to her father.

Harry pulled himself over to his husband and child, tears now openly streaming down his cheeks as he gazed at the small, crimson-soaked body. A toothy smile beamed back at them, blue-green eyes just as bright. Harry laughed, joy surging through him, and when he turned watery eyes to Tom, it was to see the once stone cold gaze now unusually bright. The hold on Evelyn tightened and Harry put a hand on Tom’s shoulder until their eyes met and they exchanged a wordless moment of shared relief and gratitude.

“Merlin,” Ron breathed from somewhere behind Harry. “Not that I’m not relieved, mind, but the lot of you look horrifying.”

“Ronald!” Hermione hissed angrily.

Harry uttered another slightly hysterical laugh, so overwhelmed with emotion that he could hardly stop himself. He knew that they no doubt looked a sight; covered from head to toe in blood-like water, grinning madly with relief.

But it was going to be okay, Harry told himself. They were together, and they were safe. And best of all, they were alive.


	7. Never Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one, guys! Hope you like it! :)

_Now he's moving close, my heart in my throat_

_I won't say a word but I think he knows..._

_That I've hardly slept since the night he left_

_His body always kept mine inside of it_

_Keep the nightmares out, give me mouth to mouth_

_I can't live without you, take me to your house_

_Take me home._

* * *

 

In a bizarre twist of events, a week later found everything back to the way it once was in number 12 Grimmauld Place. Except with one exception, of course; the house guests remained.

Harry could not bear the thought of parting with Evelyn after having so nearly lost her for good. In fact, he hardly entertained the idea at all. Tom Riddle, on the other hand, had been another matter entirely. His feelings for the man were now so muddled up that he could not begin to untangle them. So he settled for treating the man with a certain distance. But he could never forget the fact that Evelyn needed him just as much as she needed Harry. So Tom stayed. They did not talk about finding another field of Woodland Albifloss again.

Instead Harry would catch a few job advertisements circled in the Daily Prophet each morning. Evelyn adored her new family and was hardly able to stay away from Rose and Hugo and the other Weasley clan members for too long.

This very reason was why she had been absent from Grimmauld place one particular afternoon.

Harry was in the kitchen cleaning up in a futile attempt to try and busy himself with not thinking about his and Tom’s… situation. Harry gazed out into the garden in the back, magically adjusted to be bigger than the space allowed a flat’s garden space to normally be. That’s when he felt the familiar presence come in and Harry half-expected to be ignored when Tom came to stand beside him, joining him in gazing at the garden Harry imagined was once neat and trimmed but was now wild and rambling. It was just as he like it though.

Harry sighed and flicked his wand, putting away the last of the dishes into their cupboard. He swallowed and glanced at Tom’s hand before averting his eyes. “You don’t wear your wedding ring,” he said.

Of all the things he wanted to say, this was not the highest on his list. Harry did not even know why it mattered to ask, but suddenly it felt like it did, and a whole lot in fact.

“I never see you wear it. Not since you came back for me,” Harry continued. Another flick of his wrist, another cup put in its place with a rickety clatter. “Why should I believe you even care about me at all?”

Tom looked at him and did not say anything at first, his expression strangely somber. But then he sighed and said, “Although there are things better left forgotten, I’d wished this was not one of them.”

Tom began to unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt and with his thumb, he pulled out a delicate silver chain and there, dangling at the end of it, was a gold ring.

Harry stared, mouth dry.

“I’ve always worn it, Harry,” Tom replied softly. “I’ve never taken it off.” Despite his words, he lifted the chain over his head to place it into Harry’s palm.

Harry caught the sight of an inscription written on it, almost identical to his own. Except the words on Tom’s read: ‘With you will my heart be also.’

Harry instantly recognized the words from his old mentor and headmaster.

_Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also._

Harry had only known this man for a few weeks, technically, and yet with those words and the sight of the ring, it felt like he’d known him all his life. In the matter of a second, there felt like years of emotion pouring into his heart. Harry let out a strangled noise and all of a sudden it was difficult to push air into his lungs.

A hand reached up – tentative, at first – to rest on his shoulder. When Harry did not brush it off, it ran along his back and gripped his other shoulder as Tom moved in and tipped his forehead to rest against the side of Harry’s head. Anything more would have been too intimate, too fast and overwhelming at the moment. But at the same time it was just what he needed.

As Harry focused on pulling himself together, he could hear Tom inhaling next to him.

“You always assume the worst of me, Harry. You never once even stopped to ask why.”

The other man did not even sound angry about it, just disappointed.

Harry pulled back a little to regard him with a long and hard look, and when it felt like his throat could start working again, he said only one thing.

“Why?”  

Tom met his cold, challenging gaze with a resigned one of his own. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “We were struggling... badly. How could I have lived with myself if I couldn’t even provide for my own family? Even with you working, we could barely scrape together enough to feed Evelyn every night, let alone keep her clothed or purchase books for her schooling. Then she became ill and...” He trailed off with a sigh, squeezing his eyes together as if the mere memory of it pained him beyond measure. When they opened again, Harry found it hard not to crumble in the face of such abject misery and defeat. “Can you possibly blame me for selling whatever part of myself others desired to make you and her safe and happy? Admittedly, I find it difficult to regret, Harry, even now. The only thing that destroys me is how it has hurt you, my love.”

Harry’s chest ached, his throat tight and hot and his eyes itched with unshed tears but he made a forceful effort to clear his throat and tear his gaze away from Tom. He pressed the heels of his hands against his tired eyes. He’d been sleeping badly again recently.

After taking a moment to gather himself, Harry pushed away from the other man with a hand against his solid chest. “I wish that made it better, Tom,” he said, tone filled with bitter remorse. “And I do understand, I just can’t…” He drifted off and made to turn away when Tom held him back with a firm grip on his arm.

“What is it,” the other man demanded, frustration flashing through his blue eyes. “Why can’t you?”

Harry looked into those eyes with a hard stare. “The trust is gone, Tom. I can’t trust you anymore.”

Tom’s lips thinned and he said nothing as Harry began to leave the room until –

“Wait.”

Harry paused in the doorway before turning to face Tom.

“Let me show you,” he said, an edge of desperation in his otherwise deadly calm tone. “One last memory.”

Harry hesitated. The thought of delving into the other man’s memories not a welcome one at the moment. He didn’t need anything else making him feel regret for pushing away a life that they once shared. A life that was lived alongside a lie, no matter how well-meaning or necessary.

But then there came the soft plea, almost too quiet for Harry to pick up, and he couldn’t refuse. He could allow the man his one last at redemption.

 

* * *

 

It looked to be muggle London again. Everywhere Harry looked, people were dressed in clothing from the forties. Tom’s memory-self moved through the streets in appropriate disguise, blending in seamlessly with the crowd of grim faces. On occasion, a subtle glance would be thrown over his shoulder, leading Harry to believe he was being followed.

After another block, Tom ducked into a shop before Harry saw himself sidle up to the store front not a second later. Disguised in muggle clothing as well, he leaned against the brick wall beside the glass window taped over with large crosses. He watched the few people on their way as he waited. He couldn’t be spotted coming in too quickly for fear of raising suspicion. Better to let his target know he had lost him.

“We were… understandably at odds with one another at the time,” the Tom beside him said. There was a small, bittersweet curve to his mouth as he watched though his eyes held a certain kind of gravity Harry had to wonder about.

Another moment passed before his other self finally slipped into the store only to re-emerge just as quickly, clearly having lost sight of his objective and cursing under his breath for it.

As Harry’s gaze frantically searched the street, pacing about and likely trying to think up a plan B, a shrill, wailing sound erupted all around them. It echoed through the streets and pierced the air, prompting the sparse number of people walking about to scramble and take cover in the nearest bunker or underground station. Harry continued to curse his luck, searching the chaos of the streets for Tom. But still he was nowhere to be found.

Harry watched himself inwardly struggle with the need to find somewhere to hide himself lest he be blown to bits in the ensuing air raid.

Coming to a decision, he began down the street and ducked into an alley as the first bomb hit the street behind him and he almost got knocked sideways from the impact. The ground shuddered dangerously and he grabbed onto the nearest wall to steady himself. Harry wondered why he did not Apparate right then until he saw him –

Tom stood at the other end of the alley and had also clearly seen Harry because his expression froze, eyes widening incrementally, before Harry saw it coming – felt the compression in the air, trembling with a dark promise – and without thinking he aimed his wand straight at Tom.

The ensuing blast filled the alley with thick smoke, chunks of brick and dirt flying everywhere. Harry flinched on instinct and held his breath as he watched the smoke begin to clear, wondering how the two of them could have possibly survived when the bomb seemed to have gutted the walls of the alley like a carving knife.

But then his memory-self began to emerge from the smoke slowly, coughing and covered head to toe in cloudy grey dust. The only colour on him came from the streams of blood from the cuts that sparsely littered his face, head, and body. He did not seem to mind though. Instead Harry heard himself call out in a rasping voice as he wiped away the dust from his lenses, stumbling forward in his search for the other man.

As the dust began to settle and clear, a thin, shimmering blanket of magic appeared and Harry could see Tom in the center of it, crouched with his arms still poised as if to shield himself from a blow. But when the knowledge of his own safety registered, the arms slowly lowered and he stared at Harry with an unreadable expression. Harry had a difficult time placing a name to it.

Harry held out his hand. “Are you alright?”

After a short pause, a sharp huff of air escaped Tom’s lips – a noise of disbelief or what could have been a laugh if it were anyone else. But he said nothing as he continued to stare at Harry who went to say something more when the scene began to ripple and bleed around the edges.

Harry turned away from the sight of the two of them to face the Tom beside him. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because you needed to know.”

The scene slowly faded from view although it was still burned into the inside of Harry’s brain. “Know what?” he asked as they resurfaced from the Pensieve.

Tom aimed him with a level, contemplative look. One that Harry knew he was meant to take the following words seriously. “What the first moment was when I knew I loved you.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Harry’s breath hitched and all he could do was stare. Of all the things the other man could have said, Harry never expected that.

As if seeing how his words impacted the other man, Tom continued. “Believe me or not, Harry, but when you put yourself in harm’s way for someone like me, someone you hated, I knew that there was something different about you. Something… special. I wanted to know then, everything about you. What made you tick, I wanted to take you apart and see just what would make this man throw his life away for someone who would never imagine of doing the same for him.”

Harry’s voice was quiet when he finally pushed out the question: “You ever find your answer?”

The corner of Tom’s mouth gave a small tick upward. “No,” he said. “I still search for it every day, in fact. But I think I’m beginning to understand…”

He stepped closer into Harry’s space but he did not back away this time. Instead Harry stared deeply into those stormy grey eyes, hoping to find his own answer hidden somewhere in them.

But with Tom’s next words, he did not have to search long.

“I love you,” Tom whispered so quietly that Harry doubted he’d even spoken until the other man added in a more desperate tone, “Once upon a time I’d never have been able to say those words without them being a lie. But they’re spoken with nothing but truth now. I love you so much it hurts, and a grave mistake was made. I understand that now.”

He cupped Harry’s jaw and leaned in to press a surprisingly chaste kiss on his forehead, lips trailing over his faded scar and causing a shiver to run down Harry’s spine and his fingers clench in Tom's shirt. “And if it makes one shred of difference,” Tom continued in a hushed voice, hot breath ghosting across Harry’s skin. “I can promise I won’t ever hurt you again, just… Don’t leave.”

“Tom – ”

“Never leave us again, Harry.”  

Those crystal blue eyes were dark pools of hidden emotion. Terrifying and promising as they pinned Harry to the spot. And in that moment, it was all Harry needed to hear.

He believed him. He had no choice. Not when the words spoken were so sweet; the need in that rich, familiar voice so raw and honest. And certainly not when he, too, needed this man just as much.

Tom _and_ their daughter.

“Okay,” Harry said, voice roughened with emotion, and tilted his head slightly to meet the other man's depthless gaze.

They were a family, and Harry silently vowed he would never let them go again.

 

* * *

 

When the day of their anniversary approached, the two men decided to renew their vows. And for once, they got the celebration they never had in Tom’s time.

Although it was a relatively quiet and private affair, it seemed the whole Weasley clan had come together to show just how happy they were for Harry.

Close friends had gathered to grin at the sight of the wizarding world’s hero wedded to this new, mysterious, and dark handsome stranger. All while only a few trusted reporters and journalists excitedly scribbled down the wonderful news. It was a welcome change that Harry was not drowned by numerous flashes of cameras going off, though every now and then he did catch one go off, dizzying his peripheral for only a brief moment.

It didn’t spoil a thing though, because Harry only had eyes for the man across from him. And it was from his heart that he spoke his vows, voice carrying out across the open field where everyone had congregated to witness such a momentous occasion.

“A wise man once told me that we can’t choose our fate but we can choose others’,” Harry had said. “I've taken care in knowing that, yet it seems fate chose anyway, and it chose us.” His eyes could not help but hold Tom’s as he spoke, something warm and wonderful curling in his gut to see that the other man’s attention was just as intent on him. “But so did I,” he finished.

The small smile Tom aimed at him was devastatingly handsome, causing Harry’s heart to beat ten times harder when the other man was then pronounced to be _Tom Marvolo Potter_.

Their daughter had grinned happily beside Rose, the two children having been chosen to be flower girls with only a minimal amount of begging involved. Evelyn had also been bestowed the honour of ring bearer. Which meant that she had insisted to be dressed as prettily for the occasion as possible in a new silvery white dress. A garment not too fine, apparently, to stop her from happily tugging on her deep purple Weasley jumper when evening fell and became chilly, a golden letter ‘E’ emblazoned on the front and glittering as bright as her smile. (Tom, it seemed, had also received one – an emerald green with a silver ‘T’ – much to Harry’s amusement and Tom’s dubious honour.)

Meanwhile the other kids had been quite happy to dutifully throw the rice and sneak off with as much cake as they could possibly get away with.

It was only at the end of the day, when everyone had returned home and Evelyn was passed out in her own room down the hall in Grimmauld Place that Tom decided to bestow Harry with a his own small gift.

“For our tenth anniversary,” Tom had explained, brushing his lips over Harry’s knuckles and the ring there before passing over a delicate black velvet box.

When opened, Harry was pleasantly surprised to find a handmade figurine made of tin nestled in a cushion of silk. What made his throat close up and his chest ache though was to find it had been manipulated into the shape of two trees entwined; a holly and yew, so that they would never forget the precious things they had almost lost.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke slowly the next morning, and the first thing his eye caught on was the gold band glinting on his finger. When his eyes trailed downward, they landed on the faint silver scar on his hand. But they did not linger there for long. With a languid stretch, Harry blindly reached for his glasses on the bedside table and once they were on his face, he took the time to fully appreciate the view beside him.

Tom had his head on the pillow, sculpted face serene and vulnerable in sleep. At some point in the night, it seemed Evelyn had wedged herself between them, hair inky black against the white bedding. Her chest rose and fell with soft breaths, her skin a healthy pink. Long, thick eyelashes rested against round, rosy cheeks. Harry couldn’t help let the warmth inside him lift the corners of his mouth and gently placed a hand on her forehead where his thumb began to stroke her brow.

A sharp prickle of awareness caused him to glance up a moment later though, only to meet his husband’s sleepy gaze. Harry held it until Tom’s mouth matched his own in a smile of deep contentment.

Not for the first time since he’d been orphaned at one, Harry had gotten his wish of having a family to call his own. But this time it came in the shape of a husband and child. And it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen since the war had ended so many years ago. A sight he could get used to waking up to every morning. A sight he could call his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic title taken from the Jon Hopkins remix of the song '[Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYTwKOf_xOI)' by Daughter. 
> 
> [[tumblr.](http://vanillaghost.tumblr.com)]


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